


Play The Game Tonight

by AlElizabeth



Series: Panem et Tyrannis [1]
Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Mystery, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 05:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 58,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4510182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlElizabeth/pseuds/AlElizabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Welcome to the 125th Hunger Games! Sam and Dean Winchester are selected as tributes and thrown into a game that is anything but fun. Fighting to survive, the must withstand not only the environment inside the Arena but the other Tributes and the obstacles the Gamemakers have devised. Can the boys make it out of the Games alive or will they fall victim to the bloodthirsty mob?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. District Twelve

When I was a little kid I loved to play games with my friends. We would run through the cobblestone streets, past the squat, soot-smeared houses for hours. We played games like Tag and Hide-and-Seek, shouting and laughing. It never mattered who won or lost as long as we all had fun. As I got older though, I learned that not all games end with everybody winded and giggling. No, I learned that some games were literally life and death ordeals where no one finished with a smile on their face.

The sky was never blue in the Seam. I don't know if it was from all the coal dust in the air or if the sky was just reflecting the dismal houses and dispirited people who lived there. When I was a child I often imagined that the sky only shone a deep, crisp blue over the merchants' houses. I had only ever seen the merchants' homes from afar. Sometimes my friends and I would dare each other to see how close we could get to the clean, fancy brick dwellings, only to be chased away by Peacekeepers.

Twelve is the poorest district, the farthest from the Capitol and the one ruled with an iron fist, above all the others.

The Peacekeepers troll the grimy streets looking for anyone to punish, be it man, woman or child. The square where the Hall of Justice looms is decorated with a whipping post, a gallows and stocks; all of which are used regularly. The Capitol has been keeping this district firmly under its boot since the 74th Hunger Games- or so I'm told.

Poaching a death sentence, stealing is punishable by flogging, and selling items on the black market will send some poor soul to the stocks for a span of days. Groups of four or more people- other than families- are prohibited. Everyone in the Seam must show Peacekeepers and merchants the utmost respect- a rule that has people doing everything except bowing and scraping before them- when they are outside their homes.

Raids are a part of everyday life for the miners. Peacekeepers invite themselves into houses and 'search' for contraband items while destroying anything they can pick up and even steal from people who already have hardly enough as it is.

A smile is a rare thing in the Seam. Normally a cocky Peacekeeper will grin as he pulls the lever that sends you to a short drop and sudden stop or some simpering Capitol representative with show their bleached teeth as they get a guided tour of the Seam, most likely with their bellies full and a comfortable bed waiting for them back home.

District Twelve came under the Capitol's scrutiny, like I've said, during the year of the 74th Games. The two tributes from this district, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark defied the Capitol and made the President and the Head Gamemaker look like fools. Katniss and Peeta refused to kill one another once they were the only tributes left standing and as a result decided that if they would not be allowed to win, neither should the Capitol. Peeta and Katniss defied with just a handful of berries. They were announced the joint winners of the Games and then promptly made examples of. Their small act of rebellion caused a spark in the other districts and in a matter of weeks the Capitol was sending hundreds of Peacekeepers to squash the revolts. While on their Victory Tour, Katniss and Peeta were met with unfortunate 'accidents' which resulted in their untimely deaths. Peeta fell ill with food poisoning and succumbed within days. Katniss, perhaps in her grief over losing Peeta, jumped from one of the trains open windows and fell to her death as the locomotive was scaling the mountainous region that divides the Capitol from the outlying districts. After Katniss and Peeta's accidents, President Snow himself broadcasted a memorial for the two District Twelve tributes, made a speech, and promised that such a tragedy should never occur again. With their figureheads wiped out, the rebels quickly lost the fight and were either arrested or went into hiding. After his nationwide eulogy for Katniss and Peeta, President Snow traveled to District Twelve and informed all those in attendance that any mention of the winners of the 74th Hunger Games would be considered high treason. To put it another way, District Twelve was to forevermore remember Katniss and Peeta not as martyrs or saints, but as deviants who had tried to bring about the destruction of the Capitol and plunge the nation into a chaos not seen since the Dark Days.

Two years after the most humiliating Hunger Games in history President Snow died and his successor, Goneril Ever, took power. President Ever made sure the citizens of District Twelve were well aware of their status and kept in line, lest anyone try and rebel against the good and great Capitol again.


	2. The Reaping

Fifty-one years have passed since Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark challenged the Gamemakers and still the Games are held annually. Still more young men and women are sent to their deaths for the entertainment of the privileged few in the Capitol while the Districts mourn their children, their sons and daughters, brothers and sisters. As the day of the Reaping draws closer the peoples' fear is almost palpable on the air, and all they can do is pray that their loved ones will be spared for one more year.

I tried not to think about it. I didn't want to think about all the eligible boys and girls in District Twelve shepherded into the center of the town to await the Capitol representative to call their names. I didn't want to think about the looks on the faces of my neighbours as they heard that their children were condemned. I didn't want to think about the weeks ahead, of having to watch the Games play out on our televisions at home or on the large screen across from the Hall of Justice. I didn't want to think about the knowledge that all those kids, some as young as my own little brother, would be butchered.

I lay awake in bed, trying not to think, concentrating only on the feeling of warmth coming from my brother's back as it pressed against my side. I calculated my chances of having my name drawn in the lottery. I had just turned sixteen in January so my name would be written down on fifteen crisp, white pieces of paper. Not only that, as soon as I turned twelve I took three tessera- one for each member of my family- and have done so yearly to help us keep from starving. With the extra tesserae- and because they are cumulative- my name will be in the lottery another twenty times. Now there is a grand total of thirty-five pieces of paper with Dean Winchester written on them in the reaping balls.

Only a week ago President Ever officially announced the new set of rules for this year's Games- the 125th which means they are also a Quarter Quell- on live television. Sam sat right beside me as we stared at our old, dusty television, his small hand squeezing mine while our father crouched on my other side. All our eyes glued to the President as she picked the neat, square card from its gold ornamental box.

"For the 125th Hunger Games, two male tributes will be chosen from District Twelve, two female tributes will be chosen from District Eleven…" President Ever read the rule change as though it was a list of items to be bought at the market, her tone held no interest or emotion. My heart began to thump wildly in my chest in fear. Now my chances of becoming a tribute had doubled. So had my brother's. I gripped Sam's hand tightly as he peered up at me, his mouth trembling and his green eyes as wide as saucers.

Dad groaned as he stood and to my surprise, pulled both Sam and I into a hug.

"It'll be okay, boys," Dad rumbled, "Don't worry."

Don't worry. All I did after the seal appeared on the television screen and the anthem trumpeted out of the speakers was worry.

I couldn't help but stare at the other boys I passed on the streets or saw coming out of the school building when I went to walk Sam home and wonder if one of them would be picked and if they were, would they ever return?

Sam was terrified of the rapidly approaching Reaping. He had always been susceptible to nightmares and in the weeks leading up to the lottery, woke crying and thrashing every night. All I could do for my brother was hug him and rock him, singing an old song I had learned from our mother under my breath and assure Sam that he was safe, that since he was only twelve his name was on one piece of paper in those reaping balls.

"But what about you?" Sam whispered late at night, his breath tickling my ear.

I would close my eyes and promise.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sammy," I would whisper back to him, "It's my job to take care of you and I'm gonna keep doing just that."

Sam would nod his head and then fall asleep in my arms like he used to do when he had been really little, soothed by my presence and the rhythmic sound of our father's snoring from the bed across the room.

W

Our mother died years ago, when Sam was just six months old. A fire broke out- no one knows exactly how, most think it was caused by a spark from a stove igniting the coal dust that is ground into everything- and spread quickly through the houses in the Seam. I remember my father shaking me awake in the middle of the night, shoving my swaddled brother into my arms, telling me to run outside as fast as I could. The house was full smoke and flames licked hungrily at our meager possessions. Dad went back to help Mom get out. I stumbled out the door and someone scooped me up and carried my brother and me away from the fire. I remember people shouting and running around, Peacekeepers and miners alike working together to get water from the pumps in the city center to try and put out the flames. I remember standing in a group of onlookers- mostly women and children- and calling out for my parents, coughing on the thick, oily smoke that filled the air. Sammy was crying and I cuddled him to my chest, making hushing sounds, telling him that he was safe. Dad appeared, but not my mother. Dad crouched down until he was eye-level with me and wrapped Sam and I in a hug, shaking with sobs he couldn't control. I knew then that I would never see Mom again.

Thirty-nine people died that night. The old, abandoned coal warehouse that had once been known as the Hob served as temporary quarters until new houses were raised. Nearly sixty families were forced to live together in the confines of that dirty, smelly, rat-infested building that winter. Illness decimated a large number of the refugees and many more starved or froze to death.

My sole responsibility was to take care of Sam. Our father- a miner like every man from the Seam over eighteen years of age- was gone from dawn until dusk which left me as the only person who Sammy could rely on. I was the only person who could protect Sammy. I think Sam saved me that winter. I missed my mother something awful but I wasn't allowed to give up or let my grief get the better of me because I had to make sure my little brother was safe. Sam gave me something to live for. He depended on me, needed me and that helped take my mind off the suffering that was going on around us.

I sang to Sam, all the time. His favourite song was one our mother claimed was so old people had been singing it since before the Dark Days. Sometimes when I sang, the other refugees who were nearby would pause and listen and a few times I was asked to sing a particular tune. Music is forbidden in the districts but in Twelve many Peacekeepers just let it go- they have better things to arrest someone for I guess- and I think some of them even liked the music as well.

Living in the Hob for months, although it did alienate many people- there were fights (sometimes bitter ones) over whatever possessions were left, the food we were given by the Peacekeepers, or territory in the cramped warehouse- it did bring others together. A woman named Ellen Harvelle made sure Sam and I always received our fair share when the rations were being doled out by the Peacekeepers. She and her husband were camped not far from where Sam and I were and Ellen spent much of her days in our company while William was working in the mines. Missouri Mosley, a healer, also became a good friend when she came to look after those who were ill or dying. In whispered voices, people swore that she had power and could see the future or know all about a person just by shaking their hand. I don't know about that but I am eternally grateful to Missouri for helping Sam when he caught pneumonia and nearly died because of the dampness in the warehouse.

No new houses were actually built for the refugees, despite what we'd been told. After several months of living in horrendous conditions in the Hob, we were told to either move in with family or find our own building materials.

Houses are small affairs to begin with, more often than not with one room serving as bedroom and kitchen and den combined. Many families in the Seam are quite large and most refugees found a sister or brother or parent or cousin they could lodge with.

Dad, Sam and I were not so lucky. Dad was forced to scrounge through the Heap- the Seam's dumping ground- to look for splintered or broken wooden planks, rusting tin and torn canvas so that we could have a roof over our heads.

At first our new home was no better than a lean-to that barely kept the wind and rain out but over the years the three of us periodically discovered useful items among the piles of garbage and added onto it. Now it looks pretty good, if you ask me. Not so different from the other houses that surround it. We have a stove, cots, a table and of course, a television- that was the only thing the Capitol made sure to give every refugee- because what would we do if we couldn't watch the annual Games or President Ever's regular speeches and announcements in the comfort of our own homes?

W

The center of town was decorated for the approaching reaping. Streamers and bunting covered the crumbling façade of the Hall of Justice and the shops too expensive for anyone from the Seam to go into.

Sam gripped my hand a little tighter as we walked past and pointedly stared at the ground.

I tried to appear calm and cool in front of my brother, show him that I wasn't scared. I told myself that there were dozens of other boys who could be picked- seventeen and eighteen year olds who also took the tesserae annually- and although it sounds horrible, I wanted one of them would be chosen as tribute. I couldn't be chosen, not me. I had to take care of my little brother. Sam depended on me most of all. If I left, Sam would be all alone. Dad was gone most of the day and oftentimes he'd return home too tired to do anything but wash his face in the basin and crawl into bed.

In District Twelve, everyone prays that they will be passed over in the lottery, even if it means that someone else will lose their child. No one bears any grudges against one another for this frame of mind though because, well, everyone feels the same way. I remember the previous lotteries I'd been in, standing in a group with other boys my own age, fingers crossed that my name would stay in the reaping ball and the relief and joy I felt when someone else's was called out. The only ones who actually wanted to be nominated were the 'careers' or young men and women from Districts One and Two who were illegally trained for the Games since they could walk. Sometimes they even volunteered to act as tributes for their home Districts if their names weren't picked the first time around.

The Hunger Games were supposed to be a time of celebration, but in District Twelve you'd have thought someone had died. No one smiled or laughed, voices were hushed and eyes were averted.

W

The night before the reaping, the Peacekeepers raided houses in the Seam. The head Peacekeeper, Increase Grim, made up some story about there being a threat of rebellion in the district and every dwelling in the area needed to be searched.

Sam, Dad and I were made to stand outside of our small house and watch while Increase and his goons turned over the table, broke the chairs, tore open the thin mattresses on the cots and scattered ashes from the stove onto the floor.

The night air was chilly and Sam huddled against me for warmth as the Peacekeepers drew out their search for as long as possible. I was worried about Sam getting sick- he'd never really been a healthy kid since the pneumonia- and I always got nervous whenever he shivered too much or had a runny nose.

"Will you finish up soon?" I asked one of the Peacekeepers standing outside with us.

Furlong, I think his name is, shrugged the shoulders of his white uniform and gave me a suspicious look, "Why? You got something to hide?"

"My brother gets sick easily and it's kind of cold out here tonight," I explained, not wanting to get into an argument, especially with a Peacekeeper.

"Too bad," Furlong answered, "Grim wants to make sure everything is thoroughly searched."

I gritted my teeth in frustration and looked down at my brother.

"It's okay, Dean," Sam whispered, "I'm not c-cold."

I knelt down and tugged Sam's threadbare sweater a little tighter around him.

"We'll go back inside soon, Sammy," I promised him and exchanged weary glances with our father.

After a half hour Increase swaggered out; his white uniform looked almost ghostlike against the dark of night, and addressed Dad.

"Nothing too bad this time, Winchester," he smirked. The last time there was a raid, Grim himself had confiscated a bottle of medicine Missouri had made up for Sam, saying it was an illegal substance, and tossed Dad in the stocks for three days.

Furlong sniffed in distaste and followed his master down the street to go terrorize another poor family.

We all breathed a sigh of relief as we entered our small house. Dad grabbed the spade and shoveled the ashes back into the stove while Sam and I inspected the mattresses.

"These can easily be sewn up tonight," I muttered, stuffing the straw back into one and sitting it back on its cot.

"But the chairs are really busted," Sam pointed out.

I nodded, "We can go to the Heap tomorrow and see if we can find any nails to fix them."

"Dean," Dad spoke up as he sat the table back on its feet.

"Yeah, Dad?" I asked, distractedly.

"You shouldn't antagonize the Peacekeepers like that," he warned, "Increase would arrest you on some false charge and hang you if he had half a mind to."

"But he won't," I argued, "I'm almost eighteen and the Seam needs all the miners it can get."

Dad shook his head, "Just keep your nose clean and your head down, son."

I sighed, "Yes, sir."

I dug the sewing supplies- a thin needle and catgut- out from their hiding place and fixed the mattresses so we could at least get some sleep.

From outside the sound of shouting set all three of us on edge. Sam moved closer to my side and Dad peered out the window carefully.

"What is it, Dad?" Sam asked, nervously.

"Increase is arresting someone," Dad told us, "Looks like Abraham Greer."

I stared down at my work. Abraham was an old man in his seventies who lived with his daughter and her children. I didn't really know the man all that well but he seemed nice enough. He was too old to mine anymore and spent most of his days tending the goat his daughter owned. Sometimes, if we had enough money, I'd buy some milk or cheese off him as a treat. The man never hurt anyone in his life.

"What's going to happen to him?" Sam asked, touching my arm, "Dean? They're not going to hang him, are they?"

"I don't know, Sammy," I answered and Dad moved away from the window to sit opposite us on the other bed.

"Dean, patch those mattresses up so we can get some sleep," Dad ordered but with no real force to it.

W

Sam picked at his slice of bread, tearing it into little pieces and scattering them onto the wooden tabletop.

I swiped the bread from his hands, "If you're not going to eat it than don't waste it."

"Sorry," Sam mumbled and stared at his hands.

I sighed and reached across to put one hand on Sam's clenched fist. My brother looked up at me, his eyes big and wet and his lower lip trembling.

Dad was sitting on the edge of his bed, hands dangling between his knees and a sorrowful look on his tired face.

"Sam, eat your breakfast," Dad said in a distracted tone.

Sheepishly, Sam took his slice of bread back and nibbled it but I could see he had no appetite.

I reached out one hand and placed it on my brother's forehead, worried that he was sick. There was no sign of fever so I relaxed.

It's just nerves, I thought, recalling how scared I had been for my first reaping. I had been so tightly wound up that day that when the Capitol escort called out the boy's name I puked all over my friend, Linnet Drover.

I looked up when a bell rang out once, announcing that the time had come.

Sam stuffed the last of his bread in his mouth and stood. I reached out and brushed crumbs off his dress shirt. I don't know why, but the Capitol requires a dress code for the reaping- everyone is supposed to wear their best clothes- but I guess it goes along with the celebratory atmosphere it's meant to have.

Sam was wearing a light green hand-me-down shirt and black pants rolled up so that he wouldn't trip on the legs. His shoes were the same ones he always wore, polished as much as they could be for the event.

Sam's hair had started out being brushed back, away from his face but throughout the morning it had moved back into its usual position so that his dark bangs covered his eyes.

Despite Dad's dark blue pants and white dress shirt, he still looked like a miner. His face was creased with lines, his beard and hair were going grey prematurely and he had coal dust underneath his nails.

Outside we followed the line of families who seemed more like mourners than eager participants in the Games. A lot of boys looked pale and sweaty despite their best clothes. No one spoke.

I held Sam's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze before we arrived at the city center and broke off into our respective age groups.

I ducked under the velvet rope the other boys my age were corralled in and peered at the crowd of onlookers. I saw Missouri Mosley, her lips a thin line across her face and her dark eyes smoldering. Ellen and her husband stood watching with their daughter, Joanna Beth- a girl two years younger than Sam- and I caught Ellen's eye. She gave a slight smile and nod in my direction. Dad was standing with the other families whose sons were waiting for the lottery. He had his arms crossed over his chest and had his eyes locked on Sam, trying to give him some comfort.

"Hey, good luck today," Linnet Drover bumped into me and whispered.

"You too," I told him. Linnet shared the characteristic features of many of the people in the Seam- dark complexion, black hair and grey eyes.

Our attention turned to the podium and the two large, glass reaping balls position there. Why did they need two? Why not just pick two names out of the same ball?

The Capitol representative (or escort) stepped up to the microphone and cleared her throat. This was Sugar Zest and she had been presiding over District Twelve's tributes for as long as I can remember- I couldn't even tell how old she was because of all the surgery she'd had. She looked very out of place in our grey little world with her bright pink lips, white fluffy hair and crimson eye-shadow. Her dress looked like it was made of hundreds of tiny diamonds. I guess it was supposed to sparkle in the sun or something only there wasn't any sun in the Seam.

We all waited on pins and needles while the seal appeared on the big screen behind Sugar and the anthem blasted from the speakers at the sides of the stage.

"Isn't this just a glorious day?" Sugar simpered, smiling as though it was the best day ever.

No one replied and no one had to because Sugar went right on ahead, "This is going to be a very exciting Quarter Quell! And they only come around once every twenty-five years!"

No one laughed. A small child began to cry from somewhere in the audience and a man coughed loudly.

"Ahem, well, let's not waste anymore time," Sugar continued, deflating somewhat.

She smiled gaily as she opened the tiny hatch and stuck her hand into the first reaping ball. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and a drop of sweat ran down my spine. I sought out my brother and saw Sam wasn't even staring at the podium. He had his eyes locked on me.

I smiled and gave Sam a thumbs-up. Someone shifted nervously and my brother was lost from my view. My mouth became very dry. I swallowed what felt like a piece of raw coal.

"The first male tribute for District Twelve is… Dean Winchester!" Sugar announced and I think my heart stopped beating.

This couldn't be happening. My name wasn't supposed to be called! No, I had to stay and look after Sammy.

"Dean, you gotta get up there before the Peacekeepers drag you up," Linnet hissed in my ear and I moved forward on numb legs.

I ducked under the rope and out into the aisle that split the potential tributes from the audience. Two Peacekeepers, Furlong and a woman named Stone, flanked me as I walked up the pathway toward the stage, making sure I didn't make a run for it.

Sugar beamed at me, one manicured hand beckoning me up the steps. Once I was on the stage, she put her hand on my shoulder and once more cried my name to the crowd.

I felt like I did during my first reaping but instead of puking on Linnet, I was in danger of losing my breakfast all over the Capitol's escort.

"Now, let's see who will be joining Mr. Winchester, shall we?" Sugar asked the crowd and stuck her hand in the second reaping ball.

Sugar pulled out the next piece of paper and opened it, her mouth forming a small 'o' of surprise, "The second male tribute for District Twelve is Samuel Winchester!"

"No," I whispered, "No, not Sammy."

"Come on up here," Sugar encouraged my little brother as he slowly made his way through the other tributes toward the aisle, "Don't be shy."

Sam took a couple of steps toward the podium before his legs gave out on him and he tumbled to the ground.

"Sammy!" I cried and moved to rush to my brother's aid. I stopped though when I saw Furlong and Stone grab Sam's arms and heave him up, half carrying half dragging him toward the stage.

Once Sam was close enough I went to him, shoving the two Peacekeepers away.

"Sammy, hey," I murmured, not caring that the whole of Panem was watching us right now, "it'll be alright, you'll see. I'm with you."

"Isn't that a touching moment?" I was vaguely aware of Sugar giving a running commentary.

"Two brothers, together as tributes," Sugar simpered and giggled with excitement.

I fought back when Furlong grabbed one of my arms and pulled me away from my brother, "Get off me!"

Stone took hold of Sam and we were both led into the Hall of Justice.

"Dean!" Sam cried out when Stone took him in the opposite direction of where I was heading.

"It's okay, Sammy!" I shouted back to him and tried to pull away from Furlong.

The Peacekeeper opened a door just off the main corridor and shoved me inside. I turned around immediately and tried the handle only to find it locked.

"Damn it!" I pounded my fist against the door in frustration.

What had happened? One second everything was fine and the next my whole world had come crashing down on me? Sam couldn't be a tribute! He was only twelve! That wasn't fair! I didn't really care so much about myself, I could get over it but Sam, he was just a kid.

Pacing around, trying to figure out where everything had gone wrong, I looked up when the door opened and my Dad entered the room.

"Five minutes," Furlong told us as he closed the door again.

"Dad! Have you seen Sammy yet?" I asked and ran a nervous hand through my hair.

Dad shook his head, "Listen Dean. Something is going on here."

"Hell yeah something's going on! I know it's not uncommon for siblings to be picked but-" I began but my Dad raised his hand to silence me.

Moving close to my side, Dad spoke in a conspiratorial tone, "I think the lottery was rigged."

"What?" I asked, "Why?"

Dad shook his head, "I don't know. But I think you and Sam were meant to be tributes."

I nodded, "The chances of Sam's name getting picked the first time around-"

"That's what I'm saying! I think something is happening here," Dad gripped both my arms tightly, staring into my face, "You need to be careful, Dean. You hear me? Even more so if something's going on."

"But what could be happening?" I asked, "A rebellion?"

Dad shrugged, "Maybe. I never believed that an accidental fire caused your mother's death. People living in the Seam are way too careful about fires because they know what could happen."

"You think someone set the fire on purpose? To kill Mom?" I asked and Dad ran a hand through his beard.

"I don't know," Dad admitted, "But I want you to be careful and keep your eyes and ears open."

I nodded. I could do that. I wasn't so sure about my father's conspiracy theory, but I couldn't deny that the chances of Sam's name getting picked did sound a little odd. It is very rare that twelve-year-olds are picked as tributes, rare, but it does happen occasionally.

Furlong opened the door, "Time's up."

Dad's hold on my arms tightened enough to be painful and he leaned forward so he could whisper in my ear.

"If you can't save your brother, you'll have to kill him."

I stood there as still as a statue as Furlong ushered my Dad out of the room.

I couldn't believe that my Dad had just told me to kill Sam. There was no way I'd be able to hurt my own brother!

No, Dad's wrong; I told myself, there is no conspiracy and there is no way I'd ever kill Sam. It's the stress, I reasoned, it's messing with Dad's head. It's happened to other parents before.

I sat down on the floor and put my head in my hands waiting for Furlong to come back.

The door opened again and I looked up to see Cassandra Robinson slip inside. I gave her a wan smile.

Cassandra knelt down in front of me, kissing my lips, her hands on either side of my face.

"Hey, don't cry," I told her as tears welled up in her dark eyes.

"You come back, Dean," She told me, "Promise me you'll come back."

"I can't do that," I murmured.

Cassandra nodded and slid her hand inside the pocket of her white dress, "Here, for your token."

I looked and saw a plain, silver ring on her palm.

"I can't take this," I argued but Cassandra placed the ring in my hand and closed my fingers around it.

"Yes, you can and you will," she said with a smile.

"Okay," I sighed and put the ring on the second last finger of my right hand.

"Will you do me a favour?" I couldn't help but ask.

Cassandra nodded.

"Will you go see Sammy? I don't think he's going to have many people come, you know?"

I knew Cassandra loved my little brother as like he was her own younger sibling and she would do as I asked. She smiled and kissed me one more time before leaving.

Linnet Drover came to see me too. He wished me good luck once again and told me to give some of those Careers hell.

"You got it," I told him with a cocky smile that vanished as soon as Linnet's back was turned.

Missouri was the next to visit. She shuffled into the room, shawls wrapped around her and a sad look on her dark face.

I wasn't entirely sure what to say so I remained silent, waiting for her to speak.

"You look after your brother, you hear? He's special, that one," she told me and patted my arm.

"I wish Sam's name hadn't been picked," I said quietly.

"I know," Missouri said, "But there's nothing you can do now but win."

I shook my head, "No, I'll make sure Sammy wins."

Missouri hummed as though she wanted to say something more but then she just peered at me for moment before turning toward the door and disappeared into the crumbling expanse of the Hall of Justice.

Ellen Harvelle was the last person to see me. I was surprised that she had come at all.

"If anybody could make District Twelve proud, it's you Dean," she commented as she gave me a warm hug.

"Thanks," I murmured. It was really terrible when everyone had so much faith in you when they knew you'd most likely be dead within a month.

"Keep little Sammy safe," Ellen told me and I nodded, "He's such a sweet little kid."

Sam was a sweet kid. He didn't belong in the arena, fighting to survive against the elements and other tributes. Something about this was so very wrong.

Tears appeared in Ellen's brown eyes and she wiped them away quickly, "I hate to say it, but I'm glad Mary isn't here to see you boys like this."

I nodded, feeling a lump in my throat. I could only imagine what it would be like if Mom was still alive. From watching the Hunger Games for the first fifteen years of my life, I knew what the grief could do to people. Mothers and fathers who lost their son or daughter grew old before their time- their hair turned grey or white, lines seamed their faces, their backs stooped- and sometimes even died not long after their children returned to them in pine boxes.

I was worried about Dad. Sam and I were all that he had left and even losing one of us would be a devastating blow.

"Ellen, don't let Joanna Beth watch, okay? Not this year," I asked, almost pleading with the woman.

Sam and Jo were friends and it wouldn't be right to make the girl watch my brother compete in the Quarter Quell.

Ellen, teary-eyed, leaned forward and kissed the top of my head.

"Think of Katniss and Peeta," Ellen whispered, "Let them guide you during the Games."

Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark are considered the patron saints of District Twelve tributes- not that the Capitol or the Peacekeepers are aware of it- and are often called upon by those selected for the Games and their families to protect them.

I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded. Sam and I could really use their help right now.

Ellen left and I had just sat down again when Furlong opened the door and told me we were leaving.

Stepping into the corridor I saw Sam- pale and shaky looking- but no longer in danger of collapsing again. He quickly rushed to my side and grabbed my hand.

"I'm scared, Dean," he whispered as Furlong and Stone led us toward the back of the Hall of Justice.

"Don't be," I gave him a reassuring smile, "I'll be with you the entire time."

We walked down the cobbled sidewalk to a part of the city I had never been to- the train station- and I couldn't help but stare at the sleek, black passenger engine that sat on the tracks. It rumbled like some monstrous beast and steam belched from its smokestack. Unlike the cargo trains with the words 'CAPITOL COAL' stenciled on the sides of the hopper cars, this train had a long line of coaches with windows on either side of them. No one came out to meet us but a door stood open near the front.

Sam squeezed my hand tightly as I helped him board the train first. Climbing up behind him, I turned as the door shut behind us, sealing our fate, it seemed.

I took a second to peer out the window and tried to catch sight of everything familiar to me in District Twelve lest I never returned. A hand on my arm made me jump before I realized it was my brother.

The train lurched and began rolling forward slowly, picking up speed as it left the station.

I smiled sadly when I heard Sam whisper 'goodbye' beside me, his face pressed against the glass of the window as he stood on the tips of his toes in order to see outside.

Don't worry Sammy, I thought, you'll make it back home if it's the last thing I do.


	3. Train Of Thought

I turned from the window sharply when someone cleared their throat and there stood Sugar Zest, still dressed in her sparkly dress and looking more than a little relieved to be heading toward the center of Panem. She swayed slightly with the motion of the train, both hands held out to brace herself in the narrow corridor of the coach.

Sam grabbed my wrist and drew closer to me as if Sugar was going to separate us like the Peacekeepers had done.

"Your chambers are ready if you'd like to freshen up before dinner," She told us with a sympathetic expression on her face.

"Uh, sure, why not?" I answered. It would be better than staring out the window until we reached the Capitol.

"C'mon Sammy," I said and led my brother down the hall, finding our compartments easily enough.

Sam refused to leave my side so I slid open the door of one of the compartments and ushered him inside.

The chamber was huge, bigger than some of the houses in the Seam, even. It was actually three rooms together- bedroom, dressing room and bathroom- and they were all for us.

Momentarily forgetting exactly why we were on a train speeding toward the Capitol, Sam and I truly relaxed for the first time since our names were plucked out of the reaping balls. Sam grinned, showing dimples and ran to the bed. He jumped up on it and laid back.

I followed my brother and sat down on the edge of the mattress.

"Do you think this is what it's like in the merchants' houses?" Sam asked, picking up one of the pillows and squishing it between his hands.

"Probably," I mused and stood. I stepped into the bathroom just off the bedroom and stared for a second at the white basin of the sink.

The houses in the Seam have no running water. We have to get our water from a communal well and boil it. Collecting water in the dead of winter has its hazards, balancing a wooden or metal bucket in one hand while watching out for icy patches on the road is a learned skill. There have even been times when there was no water to be had because it was frozen solid or dried up because of a summer drought.

Besides the sink with cold and hot water, there was a shower stall- something I've only ever heard about but never actually seen- with about a dozen different nozzles and buttons, and a genuine toilet.

Like the running water, the Seam also lacks plumbing- something only the merchants and citizens of the Capitol can afford- and features, instead, public latrines. They are on the far side of the Heap- which makes sense I guess- but it is one hell of a trek when you have to go.

"Dean, look at this!" I turned at the sound of my brother's excited voice and found him pulling clothes from a chest in the dressing room.

"Are all of these for us?" Sam asked, holding up a brown button-up shirt to inspect.

"I guess so," I shrugged and peered into the chest. Lined up in neat piles were about a dozen different pairs of trousers and shirts, all various colours and styles. They all looked too small for me though, this must be Sam's chamber.

"What are you doing?" I asked my brother as he began to unbutton the dress shirt he was wearing.

Sam looked at me with large, round eyes, "I just wanted to try it on. These clothes are ours, aren't they? You said so."

"Yeah," I agreed. I couldn't say no to my brother. Sam always got my hand-me-downs and I could understand why he'd want a new wardrobe.

Twenty minutes later when Sugar tapped on the compartment door both Sam and I were wearing fresh clothes. Sam had refused to leave my side and followed me down the corridor to my bedroom and sat on the bed, commenting on every shirt I pulled out until we finally decided on a grey button-up.

"There's food out in the dining compartment," Sugar said, her voice muffled slightly by the door, "If you're hungry."

I opened the door and saw that Sugar too, had changed and now she wore a tight-fitting violet dress with short sleeves that puffed out at the shoulders.

Sam peered out from around me at the Capitol escort.

"Don't be shy," Sugar smiled down at Sam, "Come on."

Sam pushed his hand into mine and we followed Sugar down the narrow corridor. At the end of the hall our escort pushed open a frosted-glass door on the left and Sam and I just stared.

The dining compartment seemed to feel expensive. It was full of items I'd imagine would be in the merchants' houses- china dishes, real silverware, crystal glasses, mahogany furniture, elaborately dyed rugs- and I suddenly felt like I wasn't good enough to enter. Sugar went ahead of us and sat down at the stained wooden table, its surface so shiny I could see the reflection of all the dishes in it, and poured herself a drink of some bright pink liquid. The table itself sat on a rug pattered in dark blue, crimson and gold- keeping it off a hardwood floor. A sideboard sat against the wall housing all manner of decanters and glasses for spirits. I found though, that I couldn't take my eyes off the table for longer than a few seconds. It was piled high with more food than I'd ever seen in one meal! My mouth started to water in anticipation and I felt Sam's grip on my hand tighten in his own excitement.

"Come in, come in," Sugar motioned to Sam and me with one manicured hand, "Before the food goes cold."

Sam released my hand and walked cautiously to the table as though everything would disappear if he moved quickly.

"That's it," Sugar encouraged Sam as he pulled out a carved wooden chair and sat down- his feet didn't even touch the ground- and stared all the delicious choices ahead of him.

Sam bounced on the chair once before turning to me, "C'mon Dean!"

I chuckled and sat down beside my brother. The scent of the food wafted up toward me and I found I was very hungry; I guess all the stress of being picked as a tribute had temporarily put a stopper on my appetite.

There was so much food I didn't know what to try first- I wanted to eat everything!

I saw platters of vegetables and meats, fish and fowl, tureens of gravies and sauces, jugs of brightly-coloured drinks, and baskets of breads and pastries.

Sugar was already eating, cutting green beans with slivered almonds into tiny pieces with her knife before bringing them to her mouth.

"This is just for lunch?" I asked and Sugar nodded as I reached out and grabbed a thick slice of bread.

The bread, from District Eleven, had a crunchy, brown crust and soft, white insides. It was studded with bits of nuts and dried fruit- just the scent of it set my mouth watering. I saw a tiny clay bowl of yellow butter and eagerly slathered it onto my piece of bread.

The flour we are rationed daily (and receive in a tessera- for those who take it) is usually the leftovers after the rest has been sent to the Capitol and is more often than not full of weevils. Butter is nonexistent in District Twelve- I don't even know if the merchants are able to purchase any- because it has been deemed an 'excess product' by President Ever and therefore is not needed in the Districts.

Sam pulled a steaming mug toward him and tipped it slightly so that he could drink. His eyes shot open as soon as he tasted whatever the beverage was and turned to me.  
"Dean, you've gotta try this!"

Sam tilted the mug in my direction and I saw it contained a slightly thick, dark brown liquid.

"What is it?" my brother asked Sugar and she smiled.

"It's hot cocoa," she answered, "All the Capitol children love it."

"I wish we had it back in District Twelve," Sam said in a wistful, sad voice and continued to drink the cocoa, completely forgetting that he'd wanted me to taste it.

As I turned back to my own plate of food I noticed that the table had been set for four and pointed at the empty spot with the bread crust, "Who else is coming?

Sugar's eyebrows rose in surprise, "Why, your mentor, of course!"

I nearly choked on my food, "Mentor? We actually get a mentor!"

The mentors were people who had won Games in the past from the current victims', ah, I mean, the Tributes' district.

District Twelve rarely won at the Games, especially since the 74th and I couldn't think of who our mentor could be. The winners didn't live with the rest of the District's population- after being crowned champion, they (and their family) were moved to the Victor's Village where they lived out the rest of their lives.

"Actually, he should be coming along anytime now," Sugar mused to herself.

Sam looked up from his plate- piled high with pastries and cookies- and smiled at me, "We're gonna win for sure!"

"That's the spirit!" Sugar exclaimed and clasped her hands together as though the thought of my brother's determination was endearing.

"It's just a pity though that you don't look more like the other people from your district," Sugar sighed and returned to her green beans.

I scowled. I didn't see how our looks had anything to do with winning the Games. It wasn't our fault that Sam and I didn't share the same physical features as many of the other people in District Twelve.

As I've said before, many citizens- mostly those living in the Seam- have a dark or olive complexion, black hair and grey eyes. The merchants often have blond hair and blue eyes.

Our Dad looks more like a resident of District Twelve than Sam or do, with his black hair and dark brown eyes. Mary, our mother, came from one of the merchant families. She had wavy, golden hair and blue eyes. Dad has told me that a lot of his fellow miners often asked him how he managed to catch the attention of someone of her status when they were first engaged. It's not illegal or anything for someone from the Seam to marry a merchant but it does raise eyebrows and questions. Such a union rarely happens anyway; the merchants and the miners stay within their respective areas and don't mix well.

My brother and I may not look much like our neighbours but I was sure we'd get picked out of a crowd as coming from District Twelve in an instant. Sam has dark brown hair that tends to go wavy when it gets too long, a slightly olive complexion and green eyes. I have light brown hair, hazel eyes and fair skin- heck; I even have some freckles too.

I looked up from my sour musings when I heard the compartment door open and our mentor walked in.

He was about an inch shorter than our father but sturdily built, barrel-chested and slightly bow-legged. He had reddish hair and beard and shrewd grey eyes. He wore a plaid button-up shirt, a brown suede vest and boots (all probably provided for him like the new clothes Sam and I were wearing). He nodded to us as he strode up to the table and sat down; he leaned his elbows on the polished wood and grabbed a jug of some bright blue juice, pouring it into his glass before Sugar spoke.

"Robert," She pointed at my brother, "This is Samuel Winchester."

My brother looked up and greeted our mentor and ducked his head, suddenly shy.

"And this is Dean Winchester."

Robert lifted an eyebrow, "You two brothers?"

I nodded, "Yes sir."

A sad look came into our mentor's eyes for a moment before Sugar chirped, "This is so exciting! Don't you think we'll have a chance to get a lot of sponsors for these two if everyone in the Capitol knows their story?"

Robert grimaced, "I've told ya before, call me Bobby. Only my Pa called me Robert."

Sugar nodded absentmindedly, "Yes, but what about the sponsors?"

"Sponsors aren't gonna matter when its only one of these boys who has a hope of making it home," Bobby grumbled and Sugar put her hands to her mouth, shocked I expect.

Our mentor sighed and lifted his cup to his lips and took a long draught.

"How do we get sponsors, exactly?" I asked, curious. From watching the Games in the past, I knew that sometimes Tributes received gifts from sponsors in times of need but I was completely unaware of how such a thing happened. Did it depend on how many other kids the Tribute killed? Or did it depend on what district they were from? Sometimes a Tribute never received any gifts at all.

"Sponsors are affluent people from the Capitol who pick a certain Tribute to 'help' during the Games. Sponsors are gained by a Tribute's popularity- you need to be likeable somehow, intrigue people, entertain them, and so on and so forth," Bobby answered, pointing a finger at me, "Sponsors are usually betting on their favourite Tribute to win the Games as well so it's to their own advantage to help the kid out."

"District Twelve rarely gets sponsors though," Sugar spoke up, shaking her head, "Especially since that incident during the 74th Games."

"Did you have any sponsors, Sir?" Sam spoke up for the first time in a long while and peered with wide eyes at Bobby.

I sighed and grabbed the cloth napkin beside my plate and began wiping cocoa from Sam's drink off his face.

"Dean! Stop it! I'm not a baby!" he protested, shoving my hand away.

"Yes you are!" I snapped and the dining compartment fell silent.

Sugar's gaze drifted downward and she sniffed. Bobby ran a hand through his hair and set his cup down.

Sam glared at me until he saw my expression and then his green eyes shimmered with tears.

"I'm sorry, Dean," he apologized and took the napkin I was still holding and cleaned his face.

W

Sam curled against my back as I lay awake, staring into the darkened compartment. My brother had refused to sleep alone and had begged me with his puppy eyes not to leave him alone.

How could I refuse? Sam and I had slept in the same bed at home since he was six months old and to tell the truth, I was secretly glad that my brother wanted me with him.

"Hey, Dean?" Sam's muffled voice called out quietly from beside me, "You still awake?"

"Yeah," I answered and rolled over so I was facing my brother. I could just see the dim light reflecting in his eyes.

"We're gonna win aren't we?" Sam asked innocently. I knew my brother was aware that there could only be one victor of the Hunger Games but didn't have the heart to remind him.

"Yeah," I muttered with more confidence than I felt. Even if I didn't come back, I would do everything in my power to make sure Sam survived the Games.

"Everyone's gonna be so proud of us, aren't they? Dad and Mr. and Mrs. Harvelle and Joanna Beth and Ms. Mosley and, well, everyone!" Sam whispered excitedly.

"They sure will, Sammy," I agreed because what else was I supposed to say? Both of us could be dead in a month's time.

I heard my brother sigh and felt him snuggle up closer to me. His breathing became slow and even with sleep.

I lay awake until the darkness in the compartment turned to grey and Sugar rapped her knuckles on the wooden door, announcing that breakfast was ready.

W

"We should arrive at the Capitol early tomorrow morning," Sugar informed us as she sipped at a mug of tea.

"So soon?" I asked through a mouthful of toast with jam and honey.

"Why yes! Although District Twelve is the farthest from the Capitol, the train ride only takes about two days," the escort chuckled and wiped at the corner of her mouth with her napkin.

Sam, gulping down hot chocolate as though there wouldn't be any in the Capitol, looked up and his eyes sparkled excitedly, "What does the Capitol look like? The teachers in school said it is really big and has really tall buildings but we didn't get to see any pictures of it."

Sugar smiled at Sam, perhaps thinking that my brother's curiosity was endearing and spoke up, "The Capitol is simply lovely, Samuel. It is bright and clean full of people."

"There's a lot of people in Twelve too… are there more people in the Capitol than back home?" Sam asked.

I took a moment to spread some marmalade on a scone and set it on my brother's plate. He'd be content to just drink that hot cocoa for breakfast but I knew he needed to have something more in his stomach.

"Yes, there are," I heard Sugar reply, "And many more children."

Yeah, I thought scornfully, 'cause none of them ever get chosen to compete in the Games.

Sam sniffed and I immediately worried that something was bothering him.

"What's wrong, Sammy?" I set down my toast and lifted my brother's chin with my fingers.

"I miss Joanna Beth," Sam whispered and I sighed. Sam was such a shy kid that it was often difficult for him to have friendships and Ellen and William Harvelle's daughter was just about his only constant friend.

"It's okay to miss her, Sammy," I started and then paused, "I'm sure she misses you too… but just think about how excited she'll be when you come home- District Twelve's champion!"

Sam smiled wanly and I was sure he was trying not to remember that there could only be one winner.

"Is Bobby around? I want to ask him some more questions about getting sponsors," I asked Sugar after stuffing the last bit of toast into my mouth.

I figured that sponsors- more than anything else during the Games- were the difference between life and death. Sure, many of the Tributes were killed off by each other but more often than not, once the herd started to thin out and the Gamemakers started getting bored, a kid could just as easily die from starvation or exposure because they didn't have a Capitol sponsor to send in supplies that couldn't be had at the Cornucopia.

"I think he's still in his room, Dean," Sugar suggested, "But you can go see for yourself. Maybe he's sleeping in a bit."

I stood up and stretched, my stomach full and happy.

"You okay here, Sammy?" I asked my brother and he nodded.

Sugar smiled at my sibling and I wondered what she was thinking about. I decided that I'd rather not know and left the dining compartment hurriedly.

I wanted to make sure Bobby knew I planned for Sam to win the Games- and God forbid if he didn't- than at least outlive me 'cause there was no way I was going to let anyone kill my brother.


	4. The Capitol

I leaned forward and Bobby poured an ounce of liquor into my glass. We were sitting in a compartment full of plush couches and chairs. The furniture was wooden framed, ornately carved and dark-stained; the fabric was chocolate brown with gold thread running through it in a leafy pattern. A chestnut cabinet on one side of the compartment contained crystal glasses and decanters and liquors.

"I want to make sure that my brother comes out of this alive," I said and took a sip of the alcohol. It burned all the way down my throat but I managed not to cough.

Bobby leaned back in his chair, swishing his own glass of liquor around.

"I can only guide you," he said after a pause, "Give you advice."

I nodded, "Than tell me what to do for my brother."

Bobby sighed and tossed back his drink.

"The Gamemakers are gonna keep the arena's layout a secret," Bobby began, "But I can give you some tips."

I moved to the edge of my seat as though it would help me hear the man's words.

"Don't go for the weapons in the Cornucopia," Bobby said and I frowned.

"Why not? Shouldn't we get the weapons first so we have a chance to defend ourselves?" I asked, not being able to help the doubt creeping into my voice.

"You've watched the Games before, yeah? Well, you should know that most of the Tributes are killed on the first day, during that dash to the Cornucopia and more precisely, in the mad grab for weapons because they are closest to the center of the Cornucopia."

I slumped, "Than what? If we don't go for weapons-"

"There should be supplies scattered around the Cornucopia- go for them," Bobby explained, "It's all well and good if you can get your hands on a sword or a bow and arrows but those can't keep you warm at night, they can't help you gather water or forage for food."

I nodded and wiped a hand over my face, "How's Sam going to survive this?"

Bobby lifted the decanter of liquor and poured some more into my glass, "You're little brother doesn't look like much of a threat- that's an advantage- which should keep him out of the other Tributes' sights for a while. The Careers will go for the strongest Tributes first, cut them down before hunting the weaker ones."

I gulped down the alcohol and scowled, "What about sponsors? Twelve hardly gets any sponsors anymore, not since the 74th Games."

Bobby breathed out a long sigh and scratched his beard, "It's all about popularity. Like I've said before, you gotta be likeable. The people in the Capitol want a spectacle and that's more than just watchin' kids murder one another… they want heroes."

I couldn't help but smile, "I can be a hero."

Bobby raised an eyebrow, "I'm sure you can but I think it would be best if we give the masses a bit of sentimentality."

I sucked in a breath, "What do you have in mind?"

"The Capitol loves tragic stories," Bobby told me, "Sure they love the funny kids or the brave ones but what they really adore is something they can cry over."

I didn't say anything.

"You and your brother, both Tributes for District Twelve," Bobby continued, "Well, that's just about as tragic as you can hope for."

"So you want Sam and I to take advantage of the fact that only one of us might get out of this alive?" I asked and Bobby nodded.

"That's exactly what I want you to do," he confirmed.

I blinked rapidly at the tears forming in my eyes.

Bobby shook his head and set his glass down.

"I don't like this anymore than you do, son," he said, "But we have to play their game if we want to survive."

"Yeah," I muttered and stared into the bottom of my empty glass.

I closed my eyes for a moment. This was not fair at all. How in Panem were Sam and I going to get through this? Even if we did by some miracle both survive until the end, there was no way the Gamemakers would let us both win.

I opened my eyes again when I heard the compartment door open and looked up to see Sam slip inside.

I smiled at my little brother, "Did you have enough to eat?"

Sam nodded and greeted Bobby, "Hello Mr. Singer."

Our mentor smiled from beneath his ruddy beard.

Sam clambered onto the chair with me, practically sitting on my lap in order to sit with me. I didn't mind my brother's need for closeness and squished over as far as possible in the plush chair.

Sam leaned against my side and peered into my empty glass, "Can I have something to drink too?"

"Uh," I stammered but Bobby stood up and went to the liquor cabinet, pulling a jug of some bright orange liquid and poured it into a glass for my brother.

"What is it?" I asked as Sam took the glass and sipped at its contents.

"Orange juice," Bobby smiled.

I relaxed and grinned back at our mentor.

W

"What about this shirt Dean?" Sam asked as he buttoned up the dark blue dress shirt before holding his arms out for inspection.

"Looks good too, Sammy," I smiled. We were in my brother's compartment, relaxing as much as possible before we arrived at the Capitol. Sam had wanted to try on all the new, crisp clothes that had been provided for him and I couldn't say no.

Sam grinned at me and slipped the shirt off. I frowned when I saw how skinny my little brother was- I could see his ribs and his spine- and realized that Bobby was right. No Tribute would go after Sam- he looked harmless- they'd probably think he'd starve or freeze to death before they could kill him.

My little brother looked at me from over his shoulder, "Hey Dean?"

I turned my attention back to Sam's face, "Yeah?"

"I'll make sure you see Dad again."

I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out. My brows knitted together.

"Aw no Sam," I whispered, "Don't you say that. I am going to see you through this. You are going to see Twelve again."

Sam frowned, "I think you should be our Victor, Dean."

I wanted to say something else but a lump formed in my throat and all I could do was nod.

W

I skipped lunch in lieu of taking a nap. I needed to get all the rest I could before training began. I tried to convince Sam to sleep as well but he refused, saying he was hungry. Realizing that I wasn't going to get what I wanted I told Sam to make sure he ate something other than cookies and pastries.

I lay awake, staring up at the roof of the train, thinking about my home district. I couldn't help but think about Dad. I hoped that he wasn't alone in our house; I hoped that he was staying with Ellen and Bill Harvelle or even Missouri Mosley.

Before long my eyes grew heavy and I drifted off to sleep, images of Twelve's familiar grey, soot-grimed streets slipping into the darkness of unconsciousness.

W

I was woken when the bed I was lying on dipped down and I felt a small, warm body press up against mine. I opened my eyes and saw Sam curled up against me, his eyes half-open and a sleepy expression on his face.

I pulled myself up on my elbows and my brother's eyes shot open.

"I didn't mean to wake you up," Sam apologized tiredly.

"No worries, Sammy," I yawned, "I was thinking about getting up anyway. Haven't had my lunch yet, you know."

As if on cue, my stomach gave a long whine and Sam giggled.

"I hope you ate more than just sweets, Sam," I suddenly remembered that I had left my sugar-loving brother in the Capitol escort's care and was sure that Sugar Zest would turn a blind eye to Sam's eating habits.

My brother nodded, "Sugar made me eat parsnip soup and cheese and bread. She let me have a big bowl of strawberries afterwards."

I couldn't help but smile. Maybe Sugar wasn't as bad as I thought.

"Dean, do you think there's gonna be other Tributes my age in the Capitol?" Sam asked suddenly. I wondered what Sugar had been telling my brother while I'd been sleeping.

"I don't know," I answered truthfully, "Maybe."

I hoped there weren't any more twelve-year olds entered into the Games. It was always the hardest to watch the young kids in the Arena. They were the weakest Tributes and few of them survived past the first few days of the competition.

I sat up and ran a hand through my short hair. Turning, I spoke to my brother, "Why don't you get some rest? I'm gonna grab a snack and be right back."

Sam nodded and curled up on my vacated spot on the bed. He closed his eyes tightly and within minutes his breathing became slow and even.

I slipped out of the compartment silently but didn't feel much like eating. Instead I wandered down the corridor, peering into rooms every so often and wondering where the Gamemakers were going to put us.

The Arena was always in a different place. Created by the Gamemakers specifically for the Hunger Games, the location was kept very secret. The exact outline of the arenas seemed solely based on the imaginations of the Gamemakers.

Wherever this year's Games was held, I couldn't help but be confident that Sam and I would fare better than some of the other Tributes. Even the Careers who'd trained for the Games since they could walk, still enjoyed a cushy existence and wouldn't truly know what it was like to eke out a living in a district that half the time seemed to be forgotten by the Capitol.

Yeah, Sam and I might fare better than our fellows for a while but really, neither my brother nor I knew what awaited us in the Gamemakers Arena.

W

I woke early the next morning. All I could think was: This is it. Today we arrive in the Capitol. Today we begin the fight for our lives.

I know I was supposed to be strong for Sammy but in the privacy of my own thoughts I realized how completely ridiculous it was to believe that either one of us would survive. I mean, ever since the 74th Hunger Games hardly anyone from District Twelve survived. I think Robert Singer is the only Victor our district has had since Peeta and Katniss won.

I sat up in bed and looked over at my brother. Sam looked so peaceful and young and alive. I gulped and brushed my brother's bangs away from his brow, waking him in the process.

"D'n?" He muttered sleepily and blinked his emerald green eyes owlishly.

"Didn't mean to wake you," I apologized and stood up, stretching.

I smiled when Sam curled back up and snuggled into the pillows. I decided that my brother needed all the rest he could get; pretty soon he'd have to learn to sleep with one eye open and be prepared to defend his life at a moment's notice.

I slid the compartment door closed and quietly walked down the corridor to the dining compartment. I expected to be the only one up at this hour- the sky outside was slate grey, not unlike that above the Seam- and was surprised to find Sugar sitting at the wooden table, sipping from a porcelain cup.

"Good morning," the escort smiled. This morning Sugar's fluffy white hair was studded with tiny sapphires and she wore a dark blue sleeveless dress that flared out at the bottom. The garment also had the blue gemstones sewn into the fabric of the skirt and bust.

I nodded in answer to Sugar's greeting. She looked me up and down, a wry expression on her face and it was only then that I not changed my clothes; the ones I wore had wrinkled from being slept in.

I ignored Sugar and sat down at the table across from her. I poured myself a mug of hot cocoa and piled my plate with food.

After a few minutes of silence- I was too busy eating as much as I could as though I was having my last meal- I spoke up.

"How long until we reach the Capitol?" I asked through a mouthful of boiled egg.

Sugar looked up and set her cup down, "In a little over an hour."

I frowned and my breakfast turned to lead in my stomach.

Sugar reached out, patted my hand and gave me a sympathetic smile.

"It's alright to be a little scared, dear," she said kindly.

"You must be glad to be going home," I managed to say through a mouth as dry as cotton.

Sugar nodded, "I am. The Districts can be so uncivilized."

My frown deepened and I felt anger begin to bubble up inside me. Sugar apparently didn't appear to notice my expression. She didn't think she'd said anything wrong.

The interior of the carriage suddenly darkened as though night had arrived early.

"What's happening?" I asked and stood quickly, ready to run to my brother if danger dared show its face.

"We're just going through the tunnel," Sugar explained and gas-lamps on the walls of the compartment illuminated the table in a warm glow.

I relaxed. I had heard about the tunnel. It had been carved through a mountain range once known as the Rockies a long time ago. The mountains separated the Capitol from the Districts and had been the first line of defense against the rebels during the Dark Days. The only way to enter or exit the Capitol was by train through the narrow tunnel.

I peered up toward the ceiling of the compartment, thinking about the millions of tons of rock mere inches above us. It made me think about the mines that my father worked in, the mines that I would have looked forward to working in if I hadn't been picked during the Reaping.

The sound of running had both Sugar and I turning toward the compartment door and I wasn't surprised to see my brother slip inside.

"Dean! What's going on?" Sam ran to my side and stared up at me in the dim light with wide eyes.

"It's alright, Sammy," I ran my fingers comfortingly through his long locks; "The train is just going through a tunnel."

"Why don't you have breakfast with us, Samuel?" Sugar suggested and I pulled out the chair beside me.

Sam gave a small, embarrassed smile and climbed up onto the chair. He had been plagued with nightmares ever since he was a toddler and sometimes was afraid of the dark.

"Can I have some cocoa?" He asked in a tiny voice.

"Sure thing," I smiled and poured a generous amount into the cup sitting before him.

The Capitol's escort smiled sweetly at us and sipped her drink. The compartment door opened a second time and Bobby Singer entered. He was wearing a beige button-up shirt and dark brown trousers. His reddish hair was combed neatly and it looked like he'd recently trimmed his beard.

Our mentor sat down beside Sugar and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Do you want something to eat Robert?" the escort asked.

Bobby shook his head, "Only coffee for me thanks. And I told ya, call me Bobby."

I watched as our mentor sort of hunched over the table, hands wrapped around his cup of coffee and a troubled look on his face. I guessed that he was thinking about the time when he was in my position- a young man with an uncertain future, sure that he'd never return to District Twelve again- and wondered if I would have that same look on my face some day.

I clapped a hand to the back of Sam's neck, "Let's get changed. I'm sure they'll want us to look civilized for our arrival into the Capitol."

Sugar didn't even blink. Bobby looked up at me quizzically, as did my brother. I shrugged and Sam followed me out of the compartment after one last mouthful of cocoa.

I moved slowly down the corridor to our rooms, a little disoriented from the shadows cast by the gas-fueled lamps. Sam led us to his compartment first. I waited with Sam as he picked out a forest green long-sleeved shirt and black trousers. Sam sat on the bed to pull on the boots provided for him- dark brown leather that came half way up his calves- and wiggled his feet for a moment like a little boy.

Moving across the corridor, my brother helped me choose an outfit from the dozen or so in my compartment. I tried to appear happy and at ease but I was growing more and more anxious by the second as the locomotive barreled on toward the Capitol.

Sam saw through my attempt and immediately reflected my poorly disguised mood.

"Sammy," I held my brother's face in both hands, "Hey, don't worry about this, okay? You'll be alright."

I leaned forward so that my brow rested against Sam's.

"Sing the song, Dean. Please," my younger brother asked and I couldn't refuse his request.

"Hey Jude, don't make it bad," I began almost in a whisper, "Take a sad song and make it better."

Sam smiled and I couldn't help but grin with him.

"Remember to let her into your heart and you can start to make it better," I continued, raising my voice a little.

This was the song that I had sung to Sammy when he was a baby, the same song our mother had sang to me when I was little. The song that had survived the Dark Days and had helped my brother and I through many a cold, lonely night when our father worked late in the coal mines.

"Dean, look!" My brother lifted his head as the shadows in the compartment were replaced by sunlight and he ran to the window.

Standing on tiptoe, Sam peered out and gasped. I moved to stand behind him and felt my own mouth open in awe. The train was rolling downwards, toward a city- the Capitol- of glass and steel. Even at a distance the Capitol looked like it was made of jewels. The sun reflected off the buildings in a rainbow of colours.

I gripped my younger brother's shoulder tightly and only then remembered to breathe.

"It looks so pretty," Sam muttered, "Not like home at all."

"Yeah," I answered distractedly. Staring at the bright, tall structures of steel and glass I suddenly missed the squat, soot-smeared shacks of the Seam.

I heard Sam sniffle and I tried to peer at his face.

"Sammy? Hey, are you okay?" I asked and my brother hunched his shoulders and nodded.

"What's wrong?" I pressed, knowing full-well that he wasn't alright.

My brother turned to me and he wiped his face with his sleeve, "I want to go home, Dean."

I sighed and knelt down so that I was eye-to-eye with my younger sibling.

"I know you do," I murmured and pulled Sam into a hug.

"I miss Dad… and Joanna Beth… and… and…" Sam began crying in earnest, his entire body shuddering with the sobs.

All I could do was hold onto my brother and try not to start crying myself.

"We're going to get through this, Sammy," I lied, "You'll see. We're gonna get through this."

"Y-you promise?" Sam muttered, his cheek pressed against my shoulder, "B-both of u-us?"

I nodded because I couldn't bring myself to say anything. All I could do for my brother was make empty promises and pray that I survived the Games long enough to protect Sam.

I had never felt so powerless before. I had always been able to keep Sam safe and now the prospect of not being able to do so terrified me.

"Hey Jude, don't be afraid," I began to whisper the song again because it was the only thing I could think of, "You were made to go out and get her."

Sam slowly began to calm down, sniffing and swiping at his face, embarrassed.

I stood up and went to the window again, watching as we raced toward the Capitol at breakneck speed, wondering if Sam and I would by some miracle make it through the 125th Hunger Games alive or end up as just another pair of names in the already long list of District children who lost their lives.

I looked down when Sam moved to stand beside me and smiled encouragingly at him.

If Peeta and Katniss were out there like some people believed they were, I hoped that they would extend some sort of influence and help my brother and I win or at least make it as far as possible in the Games.


	5. The Art of War

I couldn't stop staring at the skyscrapers towering over the train as it headed toward the station. Glass of every colour imaginable sparkled in the sunlight. The streets were immaculately clean, as though no one had ever walked on them. I had never seen anything more beautiful- or gaudy- in all my life.

Sam gripped my hand tightly in his as we gaped at our surroundings. I jumped slightly when someone knocked on the door.

"Would you like to join Robert and I in the dining compartment?" Sugar's voice called out sweetly, slightly muffled by the closed door.

I looked down at my brother. Sam's eyes were still slightly red but he nodded and gave me a brave smile, showing his dimples.

"Sure! Just give us a minute," I told Sugar and knelt down so that I was eye-to-eye with my brother.

"I'm okay now, Dean," Sam assured me even before I had a chance to speak to him.

I smiled and shook my head, "Just remember, Sammy- I'm not going away. I'm going to stay with you the entire time, alright?"

Sam nodded and wrapped his skinny arms around my middle, "I won't leave you either, Dean. Don't be scared, okay?"

"Not when I have you to protect me!" I exclaimed and we both chuckled good-naturedly before I straightened up and took Sam's hand in my own and we left the bedroom a little more light-hearted than when we had entered it.

W

The Remake Center was sterile and chilly. The floors were stark white ceramic tiles and the walls had been painted a drab grey that reminded me of the sky above the Seam back in my home district. Every other surface had a stainless-steel gleam to it.

Dressed only in a fluffy white robe, I shivered as my prep team fluttered around me like a flock of loud, colourful birds.

As soon as Sam and I had stepped off the train, Sugar rushed us into the Training Center- an impossibly tall, imposing building that was to be our home for the next the next week and a half- and into the Remake Center so that we could be made presentable for the Tribute Parade.

My brother had refused to leave my side and I was sure he would have made a scene if anyone had tried to pry us apart but thankfully we were both shown into the same room- where we now were the center of attention as our individual preparation teams worked on us.

Sam sat across the room from me, wearing his own white robe and blushed beet red with embarrassment. I smiled encouragingly at him but that didn't seem to help much.

The three members of my prep team were unlike any people I had ever met before. The trio chattered to one another incessantly in their strange Capitol accent as I was bathed and my finger and toenails were cut, my hair trimmed, and had nearly every inch of my skin buffed until it was as pink and tender as a newborn's.

"Lucrece will be here soon," Clotho announced and clapped her hands together. She didn't seem much older than I was but we couldn't have looked more different. Her irises were a deep plum colour that matched the violet dress she wore. Her high-heeled shoes clacked noisily on the floor whenever she moved. Her lips were dyed magenta and formed into a heart-shape when she smiled. Her black hair was long and covered with sparkles and strands of blue and purple ribbon.

"It's just a shame that you don't look like the other people from your district," Iras added sadly.

I frowned. Why does everyone keep saying that?!

Iras was short and round, certainly well-fed. She might have been middle-aged but I couldn't really tell- she didn't have the usual crow's feet at the corners of her eyes or laugh lines near her mouth- but was matronly enough to make me wonder. Her sleek hair was done up in a bun at the top of her head with little curlicue strands near her ears. She waddled comically when she walked, her feet clad in red silk slippers. Her red and gold dress made her rosy cheeks seem even brighter.

The final member of my prep team was Ajax. His favourite colour was green. His hair was green, his eyes were green, his clothes were green and he even had a tattoo of a vine of some sort sprouting from the collar of his shirt, up the side of his neck, across his cheek and around his left eye.

Sam's prep team- Troilus, Diaphanta and Perdita, I learned later- were just as unusual and obnoxious as my own.

I couldn't help but snicker when I saw one of the women pinch my brother's cheek like he was a toddler and fawn over him. Sam, to his credit, managed to grin and bear it.

Finally Sam and I were left alone to await the arrival of our stylists and I quickly padded across the room to my brother's side.

"How're you doing?" I asked my younger sibling. We had been here for over an hour and although our prep teams had been doing most of the work, I felt exhausted.

Sam sighed in frustration, "If I'm old enough to be a Tribute than why is everyone acting like I'm a little kid?"

I nudged my brother's shoulder with my own, "Because no one can resist those 'puppy-eyes' of yours."

Sam scowled at me for a moment but then smiled.

"Do you think Dad's going to watch the Parade?"

I stared at my hands for a moment, "Of course. It's going to be broadcast into everyone's homes and they'll probably show it in the center of town too."

Sam knew this, every year the Games and all the events leading up to them were shown on television and all citizens of Panem were required to watch.

I wondered what was really bothering my brother.

Before I could get a chance to ask though, the door opened and in walked our stylists.

Lucrece was old enough to be our grandmother. Her naturally white hair was braided down her back and although her face showed no wrinkles, her skin was as thin as parchment- I could clearly see the tracery of blue veins beneath her milky complexion. Her brown eyes were still sharp and keen and her mouth twitched into an amused smile when she saw my brother and I. Hippolyta was the exact image of Lucrece- although some years younger than her- with the same alert brown eyes but instead of white, her hair was light blonde. The older woman wore a white frock dress with silver trim. Hippolyta wore a sleeveless black dress with a hem that ended about an inch above her knees. In District Twelve she would have earned herself a day or two in the stocks if she'd ever ventured outside wearing clothes like that. When President Ever took over, she introduced a dress code for all the outlaying districts. This means that boys and men must wear trousers and shirtsleeves at all times in public while girls and women are required to have dresses that reach the knees or lower. Short sleeves and rolled cuffs are acceptable in the summer months only and for men and children. Women must have their arms covered up to the wrist.

"You two are brothers, I hear," Lucrece spoke in a sharp, though not unkind voice.

"Yes ma'am," I nodded, "I'm Dean Winchester and this is Sam."

Lucrece waved off my introduction with an exasperated expression.

The woman approached me and took hold of my chin, turning my head from left to right as she ran a critical eye over my features.

"Hmmm," she pursed her lips together and narrowed her brown eyes, "The prep team could have done something with your eyebrows."

I frowned as Lucrece picked up one of my hands and examined the nails, "You'd certainly have been a miner if you hadn't been picked at the Reaping."

I stared down at my hands, trying to figure out what Lucrece had meant. I heard Hippolyta whisper something to my brother and Sam chuckled in response.

"Too bad we can't dye your hair black," Lucrece continued, "That way you'd at least look like you're from District Twelve."

"Ma'am-" I began to tell Lucrece it didn't matter what we looked like, I was sure everyone would know Sam and I were from Twelve, when the old woman shushed me.

"Don't call me ma'am," she instructed irritably.

"Mama," Hippolyta began, "They can't help it."

I scowled angrily but Lucrece sighed and nodded, "If you must. At least it shows someone took the time to teach you manners."

I clenched my jaw tightly to keep from saying something very rude and stupid.

"I wish we could do something really spectacular," Hippolyta lamented, looking over her shoulder at her mother.

Lucrece sniffed, "Yes, but you know that no one has done anything provocative for this district since the 74th Games."

Hippolyta turned to smile at my brother, brushing back the long bangs that he'd refused to have trimmed, "Looks like we have two coal miners again this year."

W

Standing beside my brother on the chariot, I felt completely ridiculous. Both of us were wearing our coal miner outfits: thick-soled work boots, blue cotton dress shirts underneath denim overalls and yellow plastic hardhats with little lights in the front.

I couldn't help sneering contemptuously when Lucrece and Hippolyta had shown us the costumes. They were not what the men from the Seam wore down in the mines. I'm sure that the protective clothing was required but no one regulated such things in the districts… or at least not in Twelve. The only difference between my father's good clothes and the clothes he worked in was the coal dust ground into the fibers.

Waiting for our turn to ride down the Avenue of Tributes on our chariot pulled by two black horses, Sam and I gripped hands tightly.

All I could think was: Dad's watching this, waiting to see us. All of Twelve is going to see Sam and I!

My mouth went dry as the chariot for the Tributes from District Eleven began to move forward and the sound of cheering drowned out everything else.

I startled when our chariot jerked and started to roll forward. I clutched my brother's hard enough that I was probably hurting him but Sam didn't say anything- his iron grip on my fingers mirrored my own.

We cleared the overpass and entered the Avenue of the Tributes- just a long stretch of road between two enormous masses of screaming Capitol citizens. I squinted in the bright lights, unable to discern individual faces in the writhing bleachers.

Glancing around I saw myself and my brother on a giant television screen. Sam looked so small and pale in his miner's outfit and I blinked up at my own picture stupidly for a moment before looking away.

The horses pulled the chariot to a standstill before a podium where President Goneril Ever sat. She looked the same as she did in every television broadcast I had ever seen: cold, calculating and arrogant. She clapped the fingers of her left hand to the palm of her right, giving the Tributes a prissy little applause.

The President stood and everyone went silent. Sam moved unconsciously closer to me and I wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"Welcome Tributes," The President began in her dismissive voice, "And welcome Citizens of Panem, to the 125th Hunger Games."

Raucous cheers broke out at this pronouncement- none of them coming from anyone standing in a chariot- before President Ever raised her hand for silence.

The President continued speaking, addressing us Tributes specifically, telling us we should all be honoured to be in our position, that if we do well we would bring pride to our districts, blah, blah, blah.

I stopped listening. It didn't really matter anyway. I had heard this very same speech every year since I was old enough to watch the Games and after a while it had lost all meaning. Although the president could make a good show of it, she really didn't care who won or lost. This was about keeping the Districts in line and preventing another rebellion.

W

I stared at the liquid swirling down the drain as I stood under the steady stream, the water pounding over my head and shoulders as hot as I could take it.

It had taken me nearly ten minutes just to turn the shower on, what with all the multicolored buttons and dozens of different handles. Eventually I'd figured out what to do- the big blue button in the middle turned the water on and the silver handle directly beneath controlled the temperature- and allowed the water to wash away my stress.

Yeah, right.

I breathed heavily through my open mouth, trying to ignore the aching muscles in my back.

Tomorrow Sam and I would start our training, along with the twenty-two other Tributes.

I couldn't help but ask myself: Why us? Why Sam and me? What did we do to deserve this?

Ask anyone from the Capitol and they'd say that it was all the luck of the draw; that it had been coincidence that out of hundreds of other boys of eligible age, our names had been plucked from the reaping balls.

In District Twelve it was just about the worst thing that could happen to a family, aside from a mine collapse. There was nothing lucky about having your son or daughter named as a Tribute. Some people even thought that the lottery was rigged, that the Peacekeepers- with strong ties to the President- made examples of troublesome families by having their children's names picked. It was no secret that Increase Grim- the head Peacekeeper- had it in for our family and after what Dad had told me about a conspiracy, I had to admit, the idea didn't seem so farfetched anymore. Even if the only conspiracy had to do with Grim shutting Dad up by making sure both Sammy and I were chosen to participate- and die- in the Games.

Turning the water off, I slid the glass door back and grabbed one of the fluffy white towels provided.

Despite being fully aware of exactly why I was here, I couldn't help but relish the good, hot running water and rich food the Capitol allowed us Tributes to have. Why not pamper us a little bit? It was like the last meal a condemned man was given before he made his way to the gallows pole.

Drying off quickly, I changed into the pants and shirt I'd found sitting on the bed as I entered my temporary bedroom. The trousers were dark brown cotton; the shirt was beige button-up… clothes that wouldn't have been out of place back home in Twelve.

I peered at my reflection in the full-sized mirror on the back of the door and sighed. I felt a pang of loneliness even though I wasn't alone here and wished I could see Dad one last time before the start of the Games. I wished I could see Cassandra and Linnet and Ellen and Missouri once more. Despite all the decadence the Capitol offered, I missed our tiny shack of a house that swayed precariously when the wind blew too strongly, I missed the grey, sunless sky above the Seam and, heck, I even missed the smell of the Heap in high summer. Even with all its imperfections, District Twelve was my home, the only place I'd ever known, full of familiar friends and enemies, and just felt right. Like I've said before, even though I don't look like many of the people from Twelve, I was a full-blooded son of that distant district and always would be.

Shaking my head at my own sappiness, I opened the bathroom door and peered out. I wasn't surprised to see Sam lying on my bed, hands beneath his head as he stared up at the ceiling, waiting patiently for me.

My stomach growled loudly and Sam turned to me, smiling.

"You hungry?" I asked and my brother nodded, "Starving."

Sam took my hand as I moved past him and I didn't pull away. Although our rooms were across the hall from one another's, I was sure that I'd find Sammy in mine more often than not. Neither of us was used to sleeping alone. I wouldn't say out loud but I was glad to know that Sam needed the comfort of my presence as much as I needed his.

The dining area was even more extravagant than the one in the train. The tabletop was made of glass; the chairs were constructed of some lightweight, clear material to match the table with grey cushions to sit on. The floor was black marble that surely came from District Two. The walls were a painted a warm cream colour with abstract paintings to add some brightness to the room. Bobby and Sugar were already seated, their plates already full.

Sam and I took seats side by side, making our escort smile fondly at us. Before I could touch anything- my hand moving to a pitcher of amber coloured liquid that smelled delicious- a servant wearing a red dress appeared at my elbow and poured the desired beverage for me. I looked at the girl as she worked and felt my mouth go dry. The colour of the dress was a badge of her station; she was an Avox- a traitor to the Capitol- and little better than a slave. Her blonde hair had been cut short, shorter even than mine, and her nails were trimmed down almost to the quick. Her face was blank, showing no emotion whatsoever and her blue eyes were dull.

She moved silently around me and poured hot cocoa into my brother's mug. Sam remembered his manners and piped a 'thank you' to the young woman, only to frown when she didn't respond at all.

When the girl had retreated, Sam looked worriedly at me.

"Did I say something wrong?"

I shook my head and gave him a queasy smile. How was I going to tell Sam about the Avox? Sam was too young to have been taught about traitors in school, not in great detail anyway.

"She can't talk, Sammy," I told him quietly.

"Oh!" Sam exclaimed, "Why?"

Before I could answer, Sugar- who'd apparently been listening in- sniffed haughtily as she buttered a piece of bread.

"Avoxes have their tongues cut out, child," she informed by twelve-year old brother.

Sam's eyes went wide in shock and he paled visibly.

"You shouldn't talk to them," Sugar told Sam; Bobby glowered angrily at the escort for her lack of tact.

"Why?" Sam asked again, turning to me, "She seemed sad. Why did they cut out her tongue? Did she say something wrong?"

I looked helplessly at Bobby. We had to be careful about what we said, especially with Sugar so close by.

"She did a bad thing," Bobby explained as gently as possible, "Something that could have put a lot of people in danger."

I relaxed; it was probably best to be vague.

"Really?" Sam asked, incredulous.

Just drop it Sammy, I begged him silently. I didn't want to risk him getting in trouble for asking the wrong sort of questions. Not this close to the Games.

"Okay," Sam said with finality but I knew that he wouldn't forget about this. I'd probably have him asking me about the girl once we were alone.

The rest of the meal went by silently- as if we were all Avoxes- but I could practically hear the wheels turning in my little brother's head. He wasn't stupid, far from it, he'd be thinking on everything we'd told him about traitors and likely connecting it to what he knew about the justice system in Twelve.

When the girl in the red dress returned to fill our glasses again, Sam stared straight ahead, acting as though she was invisible. I think a little piece of my heart broke off as I watched my brother. Whatever the poor girl had done to piss off the Capitol, I doubted that it had been bad enough to earn her this position. Avoxes were never given a fair trial. If someone was suspected of being a traitor they were arrested on the spot and had their tongues removed and made to be a slave for the rest of their miserable lives. Sometimes traitors were interrogated for more information- especially if more than one party was suspected of sedition- and could be killed during the torture or executed afterwards. No one questioned it. The victims' family certainly didn't utter a peep against the Capitol for fear that they would likewise be taken in and tortured or made into an Avox.

Once we had eaten, Sugar invited us to watch the Tribute parade on television. I didn't say no. I decided that I might as well get a look at who Sam and I would be up against in the arena, knowing that the other Tributes would be doing the same.

W

"Dean?" I opened my eyes instantly at the sound of my little brother's voice. I could feel his back pressed up against my side and let out a sigh of relief.

"What is it, Sammy?" I whispered, squinting through the darkened bedroom at the ceiling.

"Do you think Dad's okay?"

I sucked in a deep breath, "Sure he is. He's strong. He'll be rooting for us the whole time."

"That's not what I meant," Sam grumbled sleepily.

"Then what?" I blinked, finding it hard to keep my eyes open.

Sam didn't say anything for a long time and I thought he'd fallen back to sleep when his voice startled me, "Do you think he's right about Mom?

I was shocked, "What did Dad say to you?"

I sat up and leaned against the bed's headboard. Sam pulled himself up and sat cross-legged beside me, curling into my side.

"Said he didn't think Mom died by accident," Sam muttered, "Said someone was playing with us."

I shook my head, "Sam… Dad… he was just stressed out… you've seen the way people act when their kids get picked. Besides, other than Grim, who cares about us? We're just another mining family from District Twelve."

"Anyway, if… someone wanted Mom dead… they didn't have to set a fire and take out most of the Seam just to get at her," I continued tightly, memories of the months spent as a refugee in the Hob coming back.

"But what about me and you? Both of us got picked," Sam asked and I wondered if Dad had told Sammy to kill me if I couldn't be saved.

"We're not that popular! Siblings get picked sometimes, you know that, and I guess it was just our turn," I claimed, feeling better to be saying these things out loud.

"Okay Dean," Sam concluded and slid down until he was lying on the bed again, "Go to sleep."

Chuckling, I did as he told me and laid a hand over his chest, feeling his heart beat beneath my palm, reassured by his warmth and drifted back to sleep.


	6. Survival of the Fittest

The first day of training arrived. I won't lie and say that I wasn't nervous. I was terrified. I didn't let Sam know just how scared I was though; I knew that if I started panicking, he would too. Sam and I changed into our uniforms- soft black trousers and black shirts with a large yellow 12 stitched onto the back and a smaller one on the front, on the left side- and made our way down the hall to the dining area.

I wasn't really hungry and didn't think I'd be able to eat anything. Sugar, however, wasn't having any of it and told me I should eat something.

"You will be staying in the Training Center for lunch and that is usually held in the late afternoon," She explained, spreading marmalade onto a piece of toast, "So you'll be ravenous by the time you do get to eat."

The Avox girl served us again and I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling her she didn't need to wait on us.

As I munched away on a bowl of fruit, I looked to our mentor.

"Any advice?" I asked Bobby. He was nearly asleep in his own breakfast and I didn't wonder if he hadn't slept at all the night before. Being back here must be pretty hard on him, all those memories.

Bobby sipped at a steaming mug of coffee that the girl had just poured him, "Pay attention to the survival skills they'll teach you. A lot of the Tributes are only concerned with learning to hack each other to pieces and forget that the elements will kill them just as soon as the other competitors."

I nodded and muttered, "Thanks."

Sam was picking at a hardboiled egg and looking a little green.

"Sammy, you feeling alright?" I asked, concerned and my brother shook his head.

I put my hand against his brow and frowned; he did feel a little warm.

"Bobby, is there any way you could get some medicine? I think Sam's getting sick," I asked our mentor and Bobby shrugged, "I'll see what I can do. I'm sure the Gamemakers won't want one of their Tributes under the weather when the Games start. It'll look bad one 'em."

"Boys!" Sugar exclaimed, almost dropping her toast on her lap, "You had better get down to the Training Center! You have five minutes!"

Swearing, I grabbed my brother's hand and rushed out of our apartment. Running down the hall I slammed the palm of my hand onto the button at the elevator and waited impatiently as the numbers above the door slowly climbed upwards.

"Why do we have to be at the top?" I grumbled irritably and pulled my brother inside the elevator when it pinged and its gold-plated doors slid open.

"Are we going to be late?" Sam asked, gripping my hand tightly in his.

"Nah," I told him, "We'll be fine."

Great, I thought angrily, first day of training and we're already late. What a message that's gonna send the others.

Before the elevator doors had fully opened, I was squeezing myself out, dragging my brother behind me.

The Center wasn't difficult to find. Shoving open a pair of double doors, Sam and I stumbled into a large open room with concrete floors and a row of bleachers on one side where the Gamemakers sat.

Our fellow Tributes were already there. Of course. I heard sniggering and whispering as Sam and I approached the group.

"So glad you could make it!" A girl with blonde hair cut in a pixie style called out to a chorus of giggles.

All of the other Tributes were wearing uniforms nearly identical to ours; the only difference was the numbers.

I glared at the girl who had shouted, she had a yellow number 1 on her chest; she was a Career. I realized I was still holding onto my brother's hand and let go, wiping my sweaty palm off on my pants.

Everyone looked up when the double doors opened and a stony-faced man strolled in. He was wearing all black, like us except that he didn't have any number.

"Listen up;" he commanded in a deep voice, "I'm not here to babysit you. My job is to make sure you don't kill each other. There are twenty-four stations that you must go to and master. The next five days you will learn the skills you need to survive out in the Arena. I trust you will all take this seriously because if you forget something or decide to slack off, your life could be the price you pay."

I peered past the group of Tributes and noticed that there were indeed twenty-four stations. A great number of them had weapons- everything from slingshots to swords were hung up on racks, glinting in the lights- and I could almost feel the tension in the room build as everyone laid eyes on them.

"If you have any questions," the man said, "Come to me. Other than that… have at it."

Almost as if they were guided by magnets, the majority of the Tributes flocked to the weapons stations. Sam and I stayed back as the others squabbled over the chance to use the maces or daggers first.

I felt my brother move closer to me and I couldn't help but think: Dear God what have we gotten ourselves into?

"C'mon Sammy," I mumbled and led my brother over to the first open station I saw.

I looked down and saw a bunch of potted plants and a booklet.

Remember what Bobby said, I told myself, it's not going to matter if you can cleave someone's skull in two when you're freezing to death or something.

I picked up the booklet and flipped through it, seeing colour drawings and descriptions of plants that we might encounter, both helpful and harmful.

I sat down, figuring we would be here for a while and with Sam by my side, studied the book from front to back, and used the actual potted specimens for reference.

The sounds of sparring were loud in the gymnasium- swords grinding against each other, the twang of arrows leaving their bows, grunts and cries from the other Tributes- so that half the time I forgot that we were being watched as we trained.

By the time the overseer- Rufus, I later found out- told us to switch stations, Sam and I could name and describe over a dozen different species of plants and tubers and knew whether they were safe to eat or not, if they could be used as medicine or if their leaves would give you a painful rash if they were brushed against.

I wasn't keen on going to a station featuring weapons- at least not yet- so I led my brother a few feet down the line and stopped in front of what looked like a messy pile of twigs and stones.

"What are we supposed to do here, Dean?" Sam asked and picked up one of the sticks curiously.

Rufus, probably seeing my brother and I just standing there, made his way over.

"Don't tell me you've never seen kindling before," he grunted.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, embarrassed and nodded.

"C'mon Twelve," he said conspiratorially, "Show all of Panem that you're as good as these Career morons."

That had me laughing out loud. Sam smiled politely up at the older man. If Rufus was a born-and-raised citizen of the Capitol he certainly didn't seem one. He looked to be ten or so years older than our Dad, with a dark complexion and graying, curly hair. He certainly didn't have that inherent arrogance or sense of entitlement that I'd felt from everyone else I'd met here so far. I instantly liked him.

Rufus moved away to yell at the Tributes from District Ten who were hacking at one another with axes and Sam and I got down to business.

"Why do we have to know how to build a fire, Dean?" Sammy asked as he pushed the stones into a circle, "They're always dangerous in the Games."

I nodded. Although a fire was nice to have at night because it kept some of the local wildlife away and offered warmth, it was also a beacon that screamed a Tribute's location for miles. Many times the first kids to be killed off during the Games were the ones who foolishly lit fires.

I shrugged, "It will still be useful to know how to make a fire, Sam."

As I tented the kindling around the inside of the stones, I couldn't help but think of the fire that had torn through the Seam nearly thirteen years ago.

I jumped when a chilly hand touched mine and I peered up to look into my brother's eyes, "I don't feel good, Dean."

Sam whispered and lowered his gaze, looking ashamed. I frowned; there was no way we could skip training but if Sam was really sick I didn't want him to be here either.

"Just hold on for a little while longer," I told him, "Bobby's going to get you some medicine, okay?"

Sam nodded and sniffed. The wind left my lungs in a whoosh and I deflated, feeling useless. If we were back home I would have tucked Sam into bed and made him some broth and sat with him until he fell asleep, maybe even gone to Missouri Mosley for one of her tinctures. All I could do now was assure my brother that our mentor would be able to pull some strings and come up with some miracle curative before the start of the Games.

"Aw, is the baby gonna cry?" a voice sneered, "Save that for the Arena!"

I turned and saw the blonde girl who'd made the comment about our late arrival. Standing quickly, my hands clenched into fists. Normally I would be appalled at the idea of hitting a girl but she was a Career and not long from now she'd just as soon stab me in the back as look at me.

"Back off!" I snapped and took a- hopefully menacing- step forward.

"You don't scare me," the blonde scoffed and put her hands on her hips, "You going to hit me? Go ahead…. So all the Gamemakers can see."

The girl looked over her shoulder and I saw that the Gamemakers were indeed watching us. I suppose it got boring watching a bunch of kids learn how to fight for hours on end.

The girl's fellow Tribute put a hand on her shoulder. She had long, dark brown hair, full lips and brown eyes, "Glamour, it's not worth it. Save it for the Games; when it will really do damage."

I noticed that some of the other Tributes had stopped practicing and were staring at us. A boy with black hair and hazel eyes moved toward the two girls from District One.

"We're all in the same boat here," he began but stopped when Glamour turned away from him.

"Hey! What's going on here? This ain't a break!" Rufus shouted and stomped forward, looking from Sam and I to Glamour and her partner.

I looked at my brother- he'd remained crouched by our practice campfire the entire time- and shook my head. Let the Careers explain.

Before sitting down I looked up at the Gamemakers and my gaze was drawn immediately to the Head Gamemaker. Unlike many other citizens of Capitol, Azazel King looked fairly normal; middle-aged with short, light brown hair. The only thing that was different about his appearance and signaled him out as a true Capitol resident was his bright yellow eyes.

I frowned when I noticed that King was looking right back at me. I shivered and turned away, unnerved by his unblinking scrutiny.

It wasn't like I hadn't seen him before- he always did an interview with Archimedes de Soto after the Games- but watching him on the television screen and seeing him in person was completely different.

W

When lunchtime came around late in the afternoon I found myself unable to eat. Sam just picked at his plate of food, looking sad and sick.

We were huddled together at the end of the table, staying clear of the others. I could hear Glamour and her brown-haired partner talking to the boys from District Two.

I startled when someone touched my shoulder, "Mind if I sit with you?"

It was the black-haired boy from the confrontation with the girls from One. He peered at me nervously and I shrugged, why not? Like he'd said before, we were all in the same boat.

The boy slid into the seat beside me, "I'm Carey, by the way."

"Oh, uh, I'm Dean," I stammered, feeling stupid. He was just a kid, like me.

"This is my brother, Sam," I pointed at my sibling with my fork; Sam didn't even look up.

Carey cringed a little, "Brothers… Tough break."

"Yeah," I muttered and tore a chunk from my piece of bread and crumbled it in my hands.

"So what do you think about the girls from One?" Carey asked, leaning forward slightly.

"That blonde one seems like a bitch," I commented, swearing- something my Dad would smack my mouth for if I did it in front of him- and eyed the Tribute in question.

"The other one," Carey smirked, "Vanity, I think her name is, doesn't seem too bad."

"Than why don't you go over and talk to them?" I growled angrily. I wasn't really sure why Carey was talking to me in the first place. He was from District Four and it was usually Tributes- Careers- from One, Two and Four that teamed up during the Games.

"Because I want to talk to you," Carey deadpanned.

I sighed, "I guess it won't kill me to listen… will it?"

Seriously, Carey leveled his eyes at me, "We both know how the alliances work and we both know it'll be the kids from Districts One or Two who are going home."

I nodded. I did know.

"We're all underdogs here," Carey continued, "So why not team up? Help each other?"

No way was I going to agree. I didn't trust anyone, Career or not, except my brother.

"There are only two people I trust and you aren't one of them," I answered.

Carey laughed good-naturedly.

"How about the parade, eh? You think you got it bad with coal miner costumes? Our stylists made us dress up as lobsters!"

I had to give him credit for poking fun at himself and for changing the subject so effortlessly.

I shook my head as I grinned at the memory of the two human-sized lobsters squished into the back of District Four's chariot.

"What about the girls from One? What were their stylists thinking?" I exclaimed. Glamour and Vanity had been completely naked except for the jewelry they were forced to wear.

Casey snorted into his plate of food and even Sam gave a weak smile despite not feeling well.

W

I leaned tiredly against the wall of the elevator as it lifted my brother and I up to the top floor. I wasn't about to complain though, not when Sam was as pale as a sheet and had sweat rolling down his face.

I reached out an arm and Sam moved closer to me, huddling against my side really, and sniffed sadly.

"It's going to be okay, Sammy," I muttered comfortingly.

Sam nodded but continued sniffling and wiped at his eyes a couple of times.

The elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open soundlessly. I led my brother down the hall and pushed open the door to our apartment, coming face to face with a man and a woman wearing severe expressions and long white coats.

Immediately sensing danger, I shoved my brother behind me and glared at the pair of intruders.

"Who are you? What do you want?" I snapped, angry that the Capitol already had the nerve to make my brother and I participate in their Games and now send a couple of Peacekeeper look-alikes to bribe or beat us into submission.

"Hold on there, Dean," Bobby's voice called from the interior of the apartment, "Before you start throwing punches."

Sugar appeared and strolled right past the two intruders.

"They're doctors, sent from the Medical Center to help your brother," the escort explained.

That didn't make me feel any better.

"Bobby said he was going to get medicine!" I argued. I still had one hand against my brother's chest so that he couldn't move from his guarded position.

Sugar told me, "These doctors will cure your brother in a matter of hours."

I really didn't have much of a choice. I wanted Sam to get better but trusting his care with a couple of strangers- and a couple of strangers from the Capitol no less- made my skin crawl.

Sam slipped out from my hold and moved to stand beside me.

"Dean," he said quietly, "I'll be okay."

Sam was gazing up at me with his puppy-eyed expression in full effect.

"Sammy," I began but my brother interrupted me, "I don't trust them either but I trust Mr. Singer."

My mouth gaped open stupidly.

Sam smiled slightly, "Besides, they can't have their Games if they're down by one pawn, can they?"

I turned to the doctors, "I'm coming too."

The woman shook her head, "We can't allow that. You will wait here."

Fear once again reared up in the pit of my stomach, "I'm not leaving my brother alone."

"Dean," Bobby spoke up again and gave me a pointed look.

"But I… they…" I stammered, knowing it was futile to argue.

The woman reached out and took Sam's hand, "Come along, boy."

The man had said nothing the entire time and completely ignored us as though we were beneath him.

"Thank you so much!" Sugar piped up and the man nodded his head once before following the woman.

The man closed the door after himself and I turned, furious, to the mentor and escort.

"What was that!?" I snarled.

"Calm down, Dean," Bobby grumbled, "You're brother's not going to get hurt."

"Capitol doctors are the best there is," Sugar offered, "Far better than any healer the Districts can come up with."

I frowned, thinking about Missouri, who had helped Sam more times than I could count.

"I don't know about you but I'm famished," Sugar said to nobody in particular and headed to the dining area.

Bobby sidled up close to me and whacked me upside the head.

"What was that for?" I snapped indignantly.

"Dean, you're in the Capitol if you've forgotten! Yes, you're a Tribute and they need all twenty-four of ya for the Games but they care nothing for yer folks back in Twelve!" Bobby informed me.

I felt my heart clench with fear. I hadn't thought about everyone back home.

"Bobby," I whispered, feeling like all the wind had been knocked from me, "You don't think they'd hurt Dad or our friends do you?"

"Not if you don't give 'em a reason to," Bobby said sagely.

I gulped and felt the older man pat my back, "Just be a good little Tribute; keep your mouth shut, pretend like your excited an' honoured to be here and your family should be alright."

"Okay," I mumbled, "I can do that."

Closing my eyes for a moment I chastised myself for being such an idiot. I was from District Twelve! I knew what had happened to Katniss and Peeta when they had pissed off the Capitol and still I couldn't keep my opinions to myself. It would be nothing at all to the President and the Gamemakers to have me meet the same fate as my home district's patron saints.

What was worse; I hadn't given one thought to Sam's safety. Not really. And Panem forbid my brother got punished because I had been a fool.

"No harm done, Dean," Bobby said, "Now, why don't you tell me all about your training while we wait for Sam?"

W

Sam returned exactly four hours later. I had tried to talk to Bobby- mostly to keep from worrying but without much luck- and ended up just staring at the re-runs of the Tribute parade that the television showed constantly. I couldn't stop myself from practically running to my brother and wrapping him in a tight hug. He had entered the apartment alone and I had the feeling that once the doctors had cured him, they'd kicked Sam out of the Med Center. Despite my lack of trust in the doctors, I had to admit that they did as they had said they would. Sam was as healthy as he usually was. But something was off, I could tell. Although Sam didn't look ill anymore he was terribly quiet.

"Are you alright?" I asked as we sat at the dining table and palmed my brother's brow.

Sam nodded, "Just tired."

"Have something to eat," Sugar suggested, "It will make you feel better."

Sam drank a mug of hot cocoa and stared at the food on his plate without eating it.

"What're you hungry for, Sammy?" I asked as I scooped up the dregs of the lamb, rice and plum stew I was eating.

Sam shrugged and then looked up at me, "Ellen Harvelle's cookies."

I smiled. It was a rare treat when Ellen made cookies for Joanna Beth and Sam. There was no sugar to be had but there was an old beehive in one of the scraggly trees near the Heap and Bill Harvelle would brave the stingers just to get a chunk of honeycomb so his wife could use the honey.

I looked over the table and saw a tray of sugar cookies. I grabbed it and slid two of the biscuits onto my brother's plate.

Sam mumbled thanks and ate the cookies. I looked up and met Bobby's gaze and frowned along with him.

Sam's not going to make it, Bobby's look told me and I couldn't help but agree with the old mentor. I knew that it was more than likely, almost a certainty that Sam and I would both die in the Games, but I also knew that it was a certainty that I would not die before my brother. I would be there to protect Sam every step of the way, protect him with my dying breath if I had to and God help the Tribute who tried to take Sammy away from me.

After dinner Sam and I went to my bedroom. I was exhausted and I didn't even have to ask if my brother was. I closed the door and the curtains and we both climbed into bed. I lay on my back and Sam curled up against my side.

Sleep evaded me for a long time. I stared up at the ceiling and thought about my father and mother. I missed Mom. I thought back on my Dad's insistence that someone had set the fire that had destroyed a large portion of the Seam and wondered who would want to kill Mom and why. As I've mentioned before, Mom came from a merchant family and although her marriage to Dad wasn't illegal or anything, it was uncommon. Not something I'd imagine would warrant a death sentence. Maybe Dad had pissed someone off and they had killed Mom as punishment. That didn't seem as farfetched as a conspiracy theory at least.

W

The week of training went by slowly. And painfully. It soon became very clear that Sam and I were not at all prepared for the Games. Unlike the other Districts, citizens of Twelve don't learn about mining until they are eighteen years old and needless to say my brother and I had never held a weapon of any sort. Sure we had seen the pickaxes and shovels and hammers used by the miners but had no experience using them.

Casey and the other boy from Four were already experts at fishing- one of the survival skills we were meant to learn- and could throw a spear into the chest of a straw-stuffed dummy with ease as though the weapon was a harpoon.

When Sam and I finally arrived at our first weapons station, my hopes for us only sank lower- if that was possible. My little brother took one look at the flail hanging on the rack before him and I knew there was no way he'd be able to pick it up, let alone swing it into someone's face.

Not one to show weakness in front of my fellow Tributes- who would soon be trying to kill me- I grabbed the flail, found it much heavier than I had expected and hefted it.

I had seen the boys from District Ten using the flail and thought that if they could do it than there was no reason why I couldn't.

Cautiously at first, I swung my arm lazily in an arc, the flail pointed towards the ground. Sam watched me with wide eyes and took a few steps back.

Smiling grimly, I lifted the flail and used the momentum to heave it downwards as hard as I could. The spiked ball hit the concrete floor- chips flying up in every direction- with an unnerving crunch.

I caught my brother's eye and smiled confidently at him. Sam bit his lip and eyed the weapons nervously.

W

When the final day of training arrived I felt that I had at least a little something to show the judges. Today our education in survival was at an end but every Tribute would be called back to the Training Center to showcase the skills they had learned before the Gamemakers. A score on a scale between 1 and 12 would be attributed to each contestant indicating their best chances of survival in the Game. The scores are made public and help Tributes to attract Sponsors. The higher the number, the more likely the Gamemakers thought you would live.

I wolfed down my breakfast, barely tasting it, and practically ran down to the Training Center with Sam in tow.

The other Tributes were already waiting outside the gymnasium.

"Late again!" Glamour called out with a smirk, "Too bad that's not a skill that can be judged!"

I ignored the blonde girl. There was nothing I could do about her right now anyway. I leaned against the wall and Sam sat down, pulling his knees up to his chest as we prepared for a long wait.

"What are you going to show the Gamemakers, Sam?" I asked curiously, sliding down the wall until I was sitting beside my brother.

Nobody bothered us; most of the other Tributes looked pale and nervous. This was a very important part of the Games. A low score could mean that they wouldn't get any Sponsors and be left floundering when they could really use the assistance.

Sam shrugged, "I don't know… I was thinking about telling them everything I know about the plants…"

I nodded. I think most of the Tributes assumed the Gamemakers wanted to see how well they were at killing one another and often displayed their skills with weapons. That was what I was going to do… much to my chagrin after finding out what my brother was going to show the judges.

Bobby had warned us not to be too good during training, that we should keep the other Tributes (and the Gamemakers) guessing until the very end. I thought it was good advice. Even if we showed the judges what we were best at today, our fellow contestants would still be in the dark.

Sam wasn't great with weapons but he did have a knack with the slingshot and knives. I liked the idea, though, of displaying what survival skills he'd learned instead of his prowess with the weapons.

Hours passed and the group of Tributes sitting outside grew smaller and smaller. I sighed, knowing that by the time my brother and I were called the Gamemakers would probably be tired of watching a bunch of kids show-off and that left us at a disadvantage.

Soon only Sam and I were left. I gave the last girl from Eleven an encouraging smile- which she ignored- and took a deep breath.

About twenty minutes later Rufus poked his head out from between the double doors and called my brother's name.

Standing with him, I gave Sam a quick hug.

"Good luck, Sammy," I whispered as I embraced him.

"You too, Dean," he replied, squeezing me around the middle very hard, "See you back upstairs."

I watched as Sam slipped through the double doors without looking back and sent a quick prayer to Katniss and Peeta.

I started pacing, wondering if the Gamemakers would be impressed with my brother and nervous for my own turn.

Only ten minutes- ten minutes! Oh Panem, what went wrong?- after Sam had left Rufus called me into the gymnasium.

"Knock 'em dead, Twelve," the overseer muttered as he closed the door. Crossing his arms over his chest and looking disinterested, he nodded in the direction of the bleachers.

The Gamemakers were all in attendance. And they all looked bored. The only one who appeared even the slightest bit interested in me was Azazel King. His yellow eyes practically shone in the bright lights.

I walked slowly forward, feeling like a man on his way to the gallows, and took a bow from the rack. I notched and arrow and pointed it at a dummy that stood across the room.

For one crazy moment it felt as though Katniss Everdeen was guiding my hand because when I loosed the arrow it hit the dummy right in the face, where its left eye should have been.

I realized only afterwards that a Tribute from District Twelve displaying his skills with a bow and arrow were probably not the best way to impress the Gamemakers. Next I hit the dummy in the right eye, the throat and the chest in quick succession.

I was just about to grab a flail off the rack and go at a second dummy with it when Azazel raised his hand.

"I think we've seen enough," he said, "You may go."

I nodded and trudged out of the gymnasium. I wasn't sure if I had done well or not. The Gamemakers certainly didn't seem impressed. I would just have to wait until the scores were broadcasted.

My mood didn't improve as I rode the elevator up to the top floor. All I could think about was the Games beginning in two days time. Despite all the training I had done I felt completely unprepared. The Arena was designed to kill. If the Tributes didn't get to each other than the Gamemakers would. One year the Tributes had been placed in a dry, desert canyon and when they hadn't murdered each other fast enough, the Gamemakers had a rockslide take out a least six of them.

Sam was waiting right inside the doorway when I entered.

"Hey," I muttered in greeting.

"You didn't take very long," Sam told me.

I shook my head, "Neither did you."

Sam shrugged, "The only one paying any attention to me was King."

"Huh," I stretched and added, "Is there any food around? I'm starving."

Sam and I walked into the dining room and sat down at the table laden with dishes.

Sugar Zest, dressed in a puffy teal velvet dress and matching eye-shadow, strutted into the room. I was a little surprised to see Lucrece and Hippolyta following in the escort's wake. Today, Lucrece's white hair sat atop her head in a severe bun. She wore skin-tight black suede pants, knee-high leather boots and a white peasant blouse. Her daughter had her light blonde hair in a ponytail while she wore another revealing dress- this one an awful orange colour- with a hem that stopped mid-thigh and a v-neck that showed off her cleavage.

Sam blushed bright red when he saw Hippolyta and pointedly stared at the food on his plate instead of her.

"How do you think it went?" Sugar asked in a prim voice.

I shrugged, "The Gamemakers are difficult fellows to read. I think Azazel King liked my arrow-work though."

Sugar, who had been sipping from a glass of wine the Avox girl had poured for her, spluttered noisily. Lucrece pounded the younger woman on the back hard enough to make Sugar cringe with pain.

"A-arrows? You used arrows?" Sugar gasped when she was able to breathe again.

I looked around at the three women who now seemed very grave.

"I knew it was a bad idea," I muttered.

"That was a stupid move on your part," Lucrece told me, "All that's going to do is bring up bad memories for citizens."

What do the people of the Capitol have to feel bad about? I thought but didn't ask it. The 74th Games were considered an embarrassment for President Snow and the head Gamemeker at the time, Seneca Crane.

"But Dean's not Katniss or Peeta," Sam spoke up and Sugar gasped as though he had just said the most foul curse word.

I thought that speaking their names on the other hand was very brave. If he'd uttered them back in Twelve- and if a Peacekeeper had overheard- Sam would be in a world of trouble.

Sam, realizing what he'd done, turned white as a sheet and closed his eyes in fear.

I immediately wrapped an arm around my brother's shoulders, "It's okay, you're not in trouble."

I looked pointedly at the three women and Hippolyta was the first to speak, "Of course not… It was just a slip of the tongue."

Sam peered up through his fringe of dark hair but didn't look much better. I'm sure he expected a platoon of Peacekeepers to break down the door and drag him away.

"Ahem… well, the scores will be shown later this evening… why don't you two have something to eat and then have a bit of a rest?" Sugar spoke up and gave a shuddering breath, "I think we've had quite enough excitement for now."

The women left us alone, probably going to talk about the upcoming interviews, and I looked concernedly at my brother.

"I'm sorry Dean!" Sam apologized, "I didn't even think!"

"Sammy," I released him from the hug and gripped his upper arms, "I understand."

Sam sniffed and I saw tears well up in his eyes, "I'm just so scared, Dean… I've never been this scared in my whole life! I don't want to die!"

I cringed, "I'm scared too, Sammy. I'm sure the other Tributes are scared… they'd be crazy not to be. Listen, we're going to go out to our interviews tomorrow and charm all those uppity Capitol jerks and then we're going to go into the Arena and make everyone back home proud of us, okay?"

Sam wiped his nose with his sleeve and nodded, "O-okay Dean."

I pulled Sam close and kissed the top of his head. I didn't let go of Sam for a long time- not even caring that the Avox girl was still nearby and probably watching- and wished that we could stay like this forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The two girls from District One, Glamour and Vanity, are based on Meg and Ruby from 'Supernatural'. Glamour is based off Season One Meg when she has short blonde hair and Vanity is Ruby from Season Four with long, brown hair. Carey is based on Scott Carey- one of Azazel's 'special children'- who appears briefly in the episode 'Hunted', in Season Two.


	7. Enter The Arena

Sam gripped my hand nervously as we watched the television, the national anthem blaring out from the speakers. Sugar, Bobby, Lucrece and Hippolyta were also giving their rapt attention to the screen.

My brother and I shared the couch with our mentor. Sugar and the two stylists sat in the plush chairs beside us.

The anthem faded and Archimedes de Soto's flawlessly-featured face appeared on the screen. His hair was a deep mahogany colour that just had to be unnatural- his goatee a slightly lighter hue- and grey eyes that had a perpetually bored look in them. He was wearing a white suit with a black handkerchief in the breast pocket.

"This is looking like it will be a very exciting year," he spoke to the man accompanying him, Azazel King himself.

"Yes, there's nothing better than a Quarter Quell," King smiled at the viewers and I shivered at the head Gamemaker's yellow-eyed gaze.

De Soto chuckled, "And it looks like we've got some really talented Tributes this time around."

King nodded, a smug smile plastered on his face, "I think those crazy kids are going to give us one heck of a show this year!"

"Now I know you can't say much about what's in store for the contestants but I've heard that you and the other Gamemakers have cooked up some special surprises this year," de Soto simpered and King chuckled.

"You're right, I can't say but I can say that this will be a year that no one will ever forget," Azazel said ominously and I felt Sam nearly crush my fingers as his grip tightened.

De Soto gave a fake peal of laughter, "There you have it, folks! Straight from the head Gamemaker himself! This is going to be a Game to remember!"

Bobby groaned audibly as de Soto announced that the training scores would now be read.

I knew what Bobby was thinking because I had the same thing on my mind: Sam and I would be lucky to squeak by with a six or seven. Anything lower than that and we'd be nothing more than dead men walking.

A picture of Glamour from District One flashed up on screen as de Soto cried out the score.

"Eight!"

No surprise there. Careers always got the highest scores. Glamour's partner, Vanity, received a nine.

Carey managed to get a seven but his partner was marked down as a five.

As the scores were called out- lower and lower as the Districts went higher- I felt a bead of sweat trickle down my back as the Tributes from District Eleven received a five and a four respectively.

I almost wanted to close my eyes as my photograph filled the screen next.

"Eight!" de Soto cried and my mouth gaped open. That wasn't a great score but, damn, it was a whole lot better than I'd expected.

My brother's picture came up next. Sam looked so small and shy in the photo.

"Three!" My heart stopped.

"Sponsors can now start choosing Tributes to support immediately after this program," de Soto said, grinning like an idiot.

The television went blank as Bobby turned it off.

"Congratulations Dean!" Sugar clasped her hands together happily.

"Thanks," I muttered and looked at my brother. Sam smiled at me but I saw that he had lost all the colour in his face and his hand shook in mine.

"Dean," Sam breathed, "I'm sorry."

I frowned, "For what?"

"Th-the low s-score!" Sam lamented, "Nuh- no one's gonna sponsor me!"

I shook my head, "They don't have us beat just yet, Sammy. We still have the interview with de Soto tomorrow. We'll make sure that every citizen in the Capitol knows who we are and that we're not going down without a fight!"

Still trying to cheer my brother up, I turned to Bobby.

"What score did you get?"

The old mentor grunted, "Was only a couple of years after the 74th so I only got a two."

Sam's eyes went wide, "They only gave you a two?"

Bobby nodded, "Didn't get myself any sponsors either as a matter of fact."

"You see if Robert came come out as Victor than there's nothing stopping you, Samuel!" Sugar exclaimed, trying to help but not really doing so.

Lucrece stood up, "We'd better get to work on what you'll be wearing tomorrow. You have to look good."

I frowned. Didn't Sam and I look good now?

"But not too good," Hippolyta added after her mother. The two women strolled out of the apartment, no doubt to discuss how plain Sam and I were and how would they ever make us look decent.

"I think we should have a celebration!" Sugar suggested and she looked so happy that something inside told me not to say no.

I mean, Sugar Zest was annoying and ignorant but she at least tried to keep our spirits up and that little bit of effort didn't make her so bad. I wondered if the other Tributes' escorts were as bubbly and positive as Sugar. Unless they were looking after the Careers, my guess would be no.

We watched as Sugar went into the dining room and came back holding four long-stemmed glasses in her hands, the Avox girl following with a bottle of champagne.

Although Sam and I were not really in the mood to celebrate anything, we drank the alcohol without comment.

"See, don't you feel better?" Sugar asked, smiling broadly.

No, I thought, no amount of champagne is going to make me forget that in two days I'll be fighting for my life and my brother's life. You can act all cheery and chirpy but that won't boost Sam's score up from a three.

Bobby cleared his throat and set his glass down, "I'm going to go see if I can scrounge up some Sponsors. Who knows, maybe we'll get lucky."

I chuckled darkly into my glass of champagne but nodded as Bobby took his leave.

I looked at my brother and suddenly wondered what Dad must be thinking. I hoped he didn't think Sam a lost cause. I hoped he knew I would protect Sam from anything and anyone the Gamemakers threw at us. I hoped he got to see Sam again, when all this was over.

W

I pulled the starched white collar of my dress shirt away from my neck but Lucrece slapped my hand.

"Ow!" I scowled at the stylist as she continued to tug and straighten the suit I was going to wear for the interview.

"Stop fidgeting," Lucrece grumbled and I stopped, sighing dejectedly.

I have to admit that my interview costume wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. The suit itself was double-breasted and made out of a material that was actually very soft. It was a dark grey colour that sort of shimmered when the light hit it just right. The dress shirt was as white as snow with a coal-black tie to make it seem even brighter. The trousers were the same colour and material as the jacket and my black dress shoes were polished to a high shine.

I had never had clothes this good back in Twelve. Even new clothes are cheaply made and were usually cotton or wool. Shoes and boots were leather or suede. Nothing special. Even the merchants didn't have clothes like the ones I was now wearing.

Sam wore a single-breasted suit that was such a dark shade of green that it was almost black. Like me, he wore a white dress shirt, black tie and shiny dress shoes.

Hippolyta was fussing with Sam's unruly hair, trying to make it stay flat when all the bangs wanted to do was flop over his forehead.

The night before, Bobby had taken Sam and I aside and discussed what we would talk about during the interview.

"Remember to pull at the citizens' heartstrings," he had advised, "They love all that melodramatic crap."

"Dean, talk about Sam," Bobby had told me, "Talk about how you took care of him after the fire… and don't be afraid to overdo it."

I nodded. Although I didn't really like talking about that time in our lives- even with Sam- I knew that this was my one last chance to get as many Sponsors as possible so I thought I could manage it, if it would help Sam and I in the long run.

Bobby's advice to my brother was a little broader. Sam was still a kid and as such he might just win the hearts of every mother in the Capitol.

"Talk about yourself," Bobby said after a pause, "What you like to do, what your favourite subject in school is, that sort of stuff."

"Okay," Sam had agreed and smiled so that his dimples showed.

I thought that if he smiled like that during his interview he could have the Capitol in his pocket during the Games.

Now I wasn't so sure I would be able to talk about Sam in front of millions of Capitol citizens, never mind the hundreds of people watching in the Districts.

"Dean? Did you hear me? It's time to go!" Sugar's voice brought me from my musings and I looked up to see Sam staring at me worriedly.

"Are you alright?" he asked nervously.

"Oh, yeah, of course," I mumbled, "Don't worry about me, Sammy."

The interviews were to take place at the Avenue of the Tributes, where we had all stood in our chariots to listen to President Ever's speech. Once again the stadium would be filled with cheering, gawking Capitol citizens. There would be cameras and bright lights and a stage where we would sit and talk to Archimedes de Soto.

Sugar, Bobby, the two stylists and our prep teams- who'd worked on Sam and I for four hours before we were deemed fit to be seen by Lucrece and Hippolyta- walked us down to the Avenue. Sam's hand found mine and I gave it a comforting squeeze.

You can do this, I thought; unsure if I was talking about myself or my brother.

The sound of the crowd reached us long before we entered the far side of the Avenue.

The noise made me think of the ocean, or at least what I imagined the ocean would sound like as the waves crashed into the shore.

Maybe I should ask Carey sometime, I thought, half-bemused by the idea.

I noticed that our entourage had stopped, "We can't go any further."

I nodded and Sugar actually ran up and hugged me. She had tears in her eyes. I returned the gesture a little stiffly, shocked by her sudden affection. After releasing me, she leaned down and planted a kiss on my brother's cheek, quickly using her handkerchief to wipe off the lipstick that she'd accidentally smudged on his face.

"Good luck, boys," she said in a watery voice. I wondered if she was just being overly emotional but decided that maybe Sugar really did care about us.

Lucrece simply nodded at me in a stately manner but Hippolyta hugged Sam and then me.

"You two look very handsome," she smiled, "Even for Tributes from Twelve."

Instead of getting angry- what good would that do- I just chuckled and shrugged the comment off.

Ajax, Clotho and Iras flocked around me for a minute, chattering a noisy goodbye before being quieted by a look from Lucrece.

Sam's prep team- Perdita, Diaphanta, and Troilus- had him laughing hard enough to make tears stand out in his eyes. Sam hugged each member of the team like they had known each other for years rather than a little over a week.

I smiled when I heard Perdita tell Sam that if she had been allowed to, she would have Sponsored him; this statement was followed by agreeing yeas from Troilus and Diaphanta and I wondered just how many people would sponsor my brother.

Sugar Zest, still sniffling, waved us away with her handkerchief, "Go, go, go!"

Sam grabbed my hand again and we broke away from the group. My brother and I emerged from the far wing of the Avenue and stepped out into the main stretch of road that we had ridden down only days earlier. I immediately felt sweat pool on my brow and the back of my neck. I saw the other Tributes sitting on chairs that had been placed in a row in front of the stage where Archimedes de Soto waited. Everyone was dressed in their finest clothes, ready to impress. The screaming and cheering of the crowd all but drowned out every other sound.

I sat down on one of the last chairs provided, knowing that we would be in for a long wait. Sam didn't let go of my hand, even when the crowd quieted so de Soto could introduce the first Tribute to be interviewed- Glamour- and the blonde girl sprang up the steps and onto the stage. She wore a gold-coloured dress with a skirt that puffed out at the bottom and had see-through gold netting covering it.

I didn't care about what Glamour had to say to de Soto so instead of listening, I peered around the Avenue, squinting in the bright lights. The crowd seemed to be hanging on every word the girl said; only the occasional happy scream or holler was heard. I picked out our President; she sat behind the familiar podium, watching the interview with a disinterested expression. Why would she care what any of us had to say? We'd all be dead in a few days time.

My attention was turned to the stage when Glamour said something and de Soto guffawed laughter.

Archimedes reached over and took Glamour's hand, kissed it and bade her good luck.

"And may the odds be ever in your favour," he smirked and Glamour gracefully left the stage.

Vanity was next. She was wearing a dark pink dress that had a v-neck and a hem that stopped mid-thigh. Her long dark brown hair shone with tiny red gems.

Frowning, I reminded myself not to dismiss the two girls just because they looked prim and prissy. Their heads weren't filled with fluff; they were Careers and had been training for this day since they could walk.

Looking away again, I caught sight of Azazel King himself. He was sitting beside the president and appeared to be giving the interview in progress his undivided attention. I shrugged, of course he would be interested in us; he had a vested interest in all the Tributes. Still, his scrutiny, even when it wasn't directed at me, was unnerving.

Once Vanity left the stage, the first boy from District Two approached de Soto. He was a little shorter than me, with brown hair and brown eyes. He was wearing a brown tweed suit that looked awfully warm and a nervous expression on his face.

"Andrew," de Soto began and the boy nodded. He had to be only fourteen or fifteen years old.

"I heard that you come from a family of Peacekeepers and you are planning on being one yourself, if you win," de Soto said and the boy's demeanor changed completely. No longer anxious, Andrew opened up and started chatting amiably with de Soto about what it was like to have his father being a retired Peacekeeper and an older brother- Ansen- who was already working in District Five.

The interviews went by slowly, painfully slow in my opinion, until finally it was my turn.

I stood up on shaky legs but steeled myself, knowing that this was probably the single most important moment in all of the Games.

The crowd gave me scattered applause- nothing like what the Careers received- but I told myself that if I said the right things, they'd be screaming and crying and stomping their feet by the end of the interview.

I climbed the short set of stairs that led to the stage and shook de Soto's hand before sitting down in the chair across from him. I smiled but it felt stiff and false. Unlike the Careers, I wasn't exactly tickled to be having this interview.

"An eight! Wow! How does that feel to have such a high score?" Archimedes asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He was wearing a maroon suit with a black handkerchief in the breast pocket. If I looked down I was sure I'd be able to see my reflection in his dress shoes.

I grinned even wider, my eyes beginning to water in the bright lights, "It feels great!"

"Everyone was surprised when you received the score," Archimedes said, "Tell me, what's your secret? How did you impress the judges?"

I smiled and winked at de Soto, "If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret anymore, now would it?"

Archimedes blinked for a second, confused and then sat back and burst out laughing. I hear the crowd of Capitol citizens chuckling as well.

What a bunch of stupid sheep, I thought as de Soto dabbed at his eyes with his handkerchief.

Turning serious now, Archimedes pinned me with his grey eyes, "Your younger brother is also a Tributes this year, yes?"

I nodded. Why did he even have to ask? Everyone old enough to watch the Games knew that Sam and I were siblings.

"Sammy's twelve," I muttered and saw Archimedes nod in sympathy.

"I'm sure your parents are very proud of you," he continued and I closed my eyes for a moment.

Smiling grimly, I nodded. I felt my eyes already start to prick with tears.

"Actually, it's just our Dad," I said as loudly as possible, so all those watching would be able to hear every single word, "Our mother died when Sam and I were little."

Archimedes' eyes pinched, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It was a long time ago," I said, feeling a stab of pain in my chest. It may have been a long time ago but it still hurt whenever I thought about my Mom.

I sucked in a watery breath, "I've been taking care of Sam since he was a baby. He means the world to me."

Again, de Soto nodded and I saw him lift his handkerchief to his eyes once more.

"Tell us about that," he prompted and I could just imagine Bobby Singer smiling. He'd been right; the Capitol was eating this up. I noticed that the crowd that had been mirthful with laughter only minutes ago was now so silent I was sure I'd be able to hear it if someone dropped a pin.

Once I started talking I found that I couldn't stop. I described what it had been like to live with the other refugees in the Hob. I talked about the overcrowding, the fights that broke out, the rations, I talked about how scared I was that someone would try and take my brother away. I told the crowd about the first time Sam had caught pneumonia and how he'd never been perfectly healthy after that.

I talked about happier times; walking Sam to and from school, playing with him, answering his never-ending questions. I told them how caring my brother was, I told them that he always tried to see the good in everyone, and how he always gave everything he had, never asking for anything in return…

I barely noticed the tears leaking down my face by the end of my interview. The quiet in the audience was broken only by the sounds of soft weeping- mostly from women, I think- and when Archimedes shook my hand the entire stadium erupted in loud applause. I don't think any Tribute from Twelve had received such an ovation since the 74th Games.

I smiled as I walked off the stage. If what I had said moved the Capitol citizens to tears, what was it going to be like when Sam started talking?

As I went back to my seat, I looked up at our President talking quietly to Azazel King. She looked unmoved as ever and I wondered if she had ever cried once in her life, even as a baby.

Archimedes was composing himself, preparing to call Sam up for his interview. I felt my mouth grow dry with nerves, not even sure why I was anxious and pushed the feeling down hard, trying instead to concentrate on my brother.

Sam looked so tiny, so vulnerable as he stood up and climbed the short set of stairs that led up to the platform.

My brother smiled self-consciously and sat down across from Archimedes. The interviewer leaned forward.

"Your brother loves you very much, doesn't he?"

Sam nodded and smiled shyly.

"This must be very exciting for you," Archimedes continued, "Your first year eligible to play the Games and you get picked! And you get to compete with your brother!"

"I guess," Sam answered quietly, "At least I'll have Dean with me."

My heart swelled with happiness at the simple statement and I heard a number of people in the stands sigh 'awww' at Sam's words.

Keep going Sammy, I thought, keep it up and we'll have so many Sponsors they'll be clamoring to help us.

It must have been difficult for Sam to talk in front of Archimedes and all of the Capitol citizens watching, knowing that everyone back home was listening as well but once his interview was over I knew he'd done something special to the audience. Maybe it was Sammy's innocence or his youth, I don't know but I heard a lot of crying coming from the stands.

I wondered how many women from the Capitol were looking at my brother and seeing their own young sons and daughters, imagining if they were up on the stage instead of Sam. Not that would change things, I mean, Sam wasn't their child. He was just another nameless soul from District Twelve. He might put up a good show in the Arena but that was about all he would ever do. He would be forgotten long before the next year's Games arrived.

Archimedes concluded the interviews- Sam nearly ran down the steps and sat down in his seat next to him, looking flushed- and bade all of us Tributes good luck.

Sam and I followed the rest of the Tributes back towards the Training Center. Glamour hung back until she was nearly walking beside me, her gold dress making a muted shush-shush sound as she moved.

"That was really heartbreaking, Twelve," she sniggered, "Someone's sure to give you a pity Sponsor now."

I didn't say anything. A Sponsor gained out of pity was better than automatically having one because you were a Career, a cheat.

My silence didn't seem to bother the girl though, she glanced at Sammy.

"When that gong sounds and the Games begin, I'm coming after you," she threatened, a malicious glint in her eye.

Sam didn't look at her. He moved close to my side and looped his arm through mine. Glamour laughed.

"You have any little brothers or sisters of your own, Glamour?" I asked evenly.

She nodded.

"I hope that they get picked for the Games and someone comes after them while all your parents can do is sit back and watch their television screens helplessly," I continued, my voice still calm. It was a low blow, I know, but it was true. Not even the family members of Tributes were safe. Only a Victor's family was exempt from future Reapings and if Glamour lost, there was a good chance that her siblings would be picked or volunteer for the Games.

Glamour, for all her arrogance, paled visibly while two red spots spread out on her cheeks.

"You forget; Tributes from District One win almost every year!" she snapped but clearly she was thinking of her younger brother or sister.

"You're right," I agreed, "Sometimes… but not always. Wasn't it a Tribute from Three who won last year? What was his name? Oh, right, Ray Bluestone."

Glamour narrowed her eyes at me and hurried away, shoving the other kids out of the way as she fought to catch up to Vanity.

"Dean," Sam said; his voice very small, "I'm scared."

"Don't be," I said, "I'm not going to let anything happen to you, okay?"

Sam nodded but stayed close by my side as we entered the Training Center and took the elevator up to our floor.

W

Sugar greeted us like Sam and I were a couple of conquering heroes. She told us how she had been moved to tears during our interviews.

"You just melted my heart! Honestly," Sugar claimed, "I don't think there was a dry eye in the stadium after you two finished speaking!"

I smiled grimly. I just hoped that someone, at least one Capitol citizen, had been moved enough to do more than just cry over our unfortunate tale and would Sponsor my brother and I.

"You should rest," Sugar suggested, "You won't get much of a chance for a while."

Yeah, I thought. Either we'd sleep in the soft, downy beds in the Victor's Village of District Twelve or six feet deep in the Cemetery.

"C'mon Sammy," I said and guided my brother down the hall to my bedroom. The blinds were already drawn, casting the room into shadows. I sat down on the end of the bed and watched Sam climb onto to the sheets, blinking tiredly.

I waited until Sam was lying down, curled up into a ball before settling down. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling and thought about what the next days would bring us.

. The Games started tomorrow and then Sam and I would be fighting for our lives. Despite our training over the past week, Sam and I were extremely unprepared, as were the majority of Tributes. Only the Careers really had any chance of winning. It was usually by dumb luck that a kid from a different District won. Ray Bluestone from Three had been crowned last year's Victor after the only other remaining Tribute- a girl from Two- had died of an infected wound that she didn't know how to properly take care of.

It wasn't only the other Tributes that Sam and I had to worry about. The Arena's natural environment could be just as deadly, not to mention the little surprises the Gamemakers cooked up to make things more interesting.

I let out a long sigh and closed my eyes, listening to the calm, even breathing of my brother as he slept beside me.

I hoped that I would be able to keep my promise and protect Sam from the dangers to come.

W

"Sam, eat something," I told my brother but he just gave me a blank stare, "I'm not hungry."

Sugar looked from Sam to me and back again. I had a bowl of lamb, rice and plum stew growing cold but that didn't mean my brother wasn't going to eat.

I glared at Sam, "I don't know when we're going to get food for a while so you need to eat something."

My brother didn't say anything but nodded and began piling his plate with baked ham and carrots with maple glaze and herbed baby potatoes. I tried to set an example and eat my lukewarm stew but it tasted like coal dust and I had to stop.

I glanced up when Bobby walked into the dining room. He looked tired and haggard.

"Do we have any Sponsors?" I asked while he sat down beside Sugar and the Avox girl poured him a drink.

Bobby shrugged, "We won't know until the Games start."

I nodded. Maybe once the Capitol citizens saw that Sam and I were not going to give up so easy they'd want to Sponsor us.

W

Early the next morning- before the sun had even risen above the glass and steel buildings of the Capitol- my brother and I took the elevator all the way up to the roof of the Training Center where a hovercraft waited for us.

Sam and I climbed the metal steps leading into the flying machine and I couldn't help but stare at all the pale, nervous faces of our fellow Tributes. They sat in seats alone the sides of the hovercraft- twelve on one side, twelve on the other- and every single one of them, even the Careers, looked like they wished they hadn't woken up that morning.

"Take a seat so we can begin," a stern feminine voice instructed and I turned to see a grey-haired woman in a long white coat, a doctor from the Medical Center.

Sam and I sat down across from each other. I was sitting beside one of the girls from Eleven, Persephone, I think her name was. Sam sat next to the other.

The doctor strolled down the length of the cargo area until she was standing in the middle of the walkway, between Vanity and Glamour.

She held up a thin, silver tube so that we could all see it.

"This needle injects a tracking chip under the skin so that the Gamemakers will know exactly each of you are at any given moment," the doctor drawled, "The device cannot be removed except by a doctor."

"Once I have inserted the chip, you will put your safety harnesses on," the woman instructed.

She turned to Glamour and instructed the Tribute to hold out her arm. We all watched as the doctor held Glamour's wrist and pressed the needle straight down onto the skin of her forearm, her thumb pressing down on the top dispenser and injecting the chip.

Glamour quickly pulled the black nylon straps of the safety harness down over her shoulders and buckled them onto the strap that went across her waist, securing her to the seat.

I looked across the walkway at my brother. Sam's face was the colour of spoiled milk and I wondered if he was going to be sick.

The doctor worked efficiently, going from one side to the other to be sure both Tributes from each District received their tracker one after the other.

"Hold out your arm," I did as I was told and felt the cold end of the needle press against my skin. I knew it was going to hurt- I could hear soft cries of surprise and pain as the doctor traveled down the walkway- but I was still shocked by the sharp sting that accompanied the chip's injection.

I glanced down at my arm when the doctor moved away- towards Sam- and was surprised to see no mark on my skin. It was as though nothing had happened.

"Make sure you are wearing your harnesses," the doctor instructed as she strolled back down towards the hovercraft's cabin.

I pulled down my harness and quickly buckled myself in, my heart beating anxiously in my chest.

Across from me, Sam looked so tiny in his seat, the black straps looking far too big against his small frame.

There was a faint humming noise and the feeling of being lifted into the air and we were on our way to the Arena.

The journey seemed to take only a few minutes but I was sure we'd traveled miles, perhaps thousands of miles away from the Districts.

There was a slight jarring as the hovercraft landed and the doctor appeared once again.

"You may take off your safety harnesses and follow me."

I stood up on shaky legs and Sam was immediately at my side. He wrapped one cold hand around my arm and walked beside me as I followed the rest of the Tributes.

We were not led to the doorway we had first entered the hovercraft through, instead the doctor stood before a hatchway in the belly of the flying machine.

"This will take you into the Launch Room," the doctor explained once we were all crowded around her, "You will be separated from your fellow Tributes."

Sam's hand tightened around my arm momentarily.

"I'll be alright, Sammy," I whispered reassuringly, "I'll see you real soon."

The doctor told Vanity and Glamour to come forward first, she gave them both a black jacket and ushered them into the hatchway.

One by one the Tributes were given their jackets- which would adapt to the temperature of the Arena- and sent down into the Launch Room.

I moved forward in front of my brother- I wanted to show Sam that nothing bad was going to happen to him… yet- and took the offered coat. I quickly slipped it over my shoulders and found that it fit perfectly, as though it had been made just for me.

I stared down at the hatchway which showed a lovely view of a white tile floor and gave Sam one encouraging smile before I hopped down.

I landed inside a circular glass tube, its circumference so tight that my shoulders brushed against the sides. Outside of my prison I could see that the tube was inside a small, square room with a white-tiled floor and blank walls. Where I stood inside the tube, the floor was a dull metal.

There was a door on my right side and it opened suddenly, another white-coated Capitol citizen walking through.

"The platform you are currently standing on will raise you up to the Arena. Once you are on top, you will wait for the sixty second countdown. If you move before the gong sounds at the end of the sixty seconds, the mines placed around your plate will detonate and you will be killed."

I didn't react as I listened to the man in the white coat. I knew how it worked. I had seen Tributes blown to bits because they'd been too excited and stepped off their plate too soon.

He gave me an once-over and then walked out, his job done.

I suddenly felt the metal disk I was standing on begin to rise and I instantly clapped my arms to my sides. My heart began to pound with anxiety and I felt sweat trickle down my spine.

This was it. The Games were starting.

I felt my mouth go dry as I was carried upwards.

I stared wide-eyed at the other Tributes around me and caught sight of my brother off to my far right.

I glanced around at the Arena we had been placed in for the Quarter Quell. We appeared to be in an abandoned town. The square, where we waiting, had four dirt streets running perpendicular to its sides and I could see dilapidated houses and what might have been stores along the streets. I could make out the tops of skeletal trees over the tops of the ramshackle buildings. The golden Cornucopia looked dull and drab underneath the cloudy sky but its contents of backpacks and weapons looked promising.

My eye caught an old, crumbling stone well on the far side of the square. There was an iron bell hanging on the arch above it with the symbol of a tree carved into the metal.

Clang!

I jumped at the sound of the gong and ran towards the Cornucopia where the majority of the other Tributes were headed.

I tried to see where my brother was but stumbled when one of the other Tributes hit me in their rush to get to the supplies.

Run away, Sammy! I thought fiercely, stay away from here! Hide!

I watched as Glamour arrived at the Cornucopia first and grabbed a heavy-looking battle axe. She swung the weapon around gracefully and buried the blade into the side of the girl's from District Nine. The girl staggered as blood gushed from the gaping wound. Glamour swung the axe again and hit the girl in the chest, killing her.

I needed to get one of those backpacks- I didn't care much for weapons- that would have at least some supplies inside that would be helpful. The problem was, the swords and bows and axes were on the outside of the Cornucopia while the packs deeper inside the structure.

I heard a cry of pain come from the right and the girl I'd been sitting beside in the hovercraft- Persephone- fall with an arrow in her throat.

I still hadn't seen Sam and I thought he must have had the same idea as me and had taken off in the opposite direction to hide but I was gravely mistaken.

A familiar form darted into my line of sight, making a bee-line for the Cornucopia. My brother!

I nearly called out his name but stopped myself. If I shouted I was sure to direct Glamour's attention to Sam and I hadn't forgotten her threat to him after the interviews.

I forced myself to look away and ran towards the Cornucopia. Glamour was momentarily distracted as she fought with Andrew from District Two.

I ducked as an arrow whistled over my head and I glanced up to see who was using the bow: a small dark-haired girl from Seven.

There was no way I was going to get close enough to the Cornucopia so I turned around and fled. Deciding that I'd rather run away and live a little bit longer than die fighting over supplies before the Games had even really begun, I headed towards one of the houses that didn't look too bad and prayed that Sam would be alright until I could find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from a Megadeth song.   
> Andrew from District Two is based- loosely- on Andy Gallagher of 'Supernatural' episodes, "Simons Says" and "All Hell Breaks Loose: Part One". I even mentioned his twin brother- older in this story- Ansen Weems.


	8. Armour and Sword

The sounds of fighting grow fainter as I move away from the Cornucopia. I ran between the houses, trying to make myself less of a target. I wished I could call out my brother's name but I knew to do so would be the death of me.

I paused at the side of a house that looked like a stiff wind would collapse it. I ran one hand through my short hair as I listened to the distant cries and shouts and clang of metal on metal.

Should have grabbed a weapon, I admonished silently, now you're a sitting duck.

Sighing I prepared to keep going, as far away from the Cornucopia as I could get, when a small form dashed out from the edge of the forest behind the house and hit me. I cried out and tried to shove the threat away before realizing it was Sam.

I landed hard on my backside as my brother wrapped his thin arms around my middle and buried his head agains my shoulder.

"Sam!" I hissed under my breath, trying to pry him off.

"I didn't see you," Sam mumbled, resisting my attempts to extract him from round my middle, "And I heard the fighting and I thought…"

I smiled grimly and carded my fingers through my brother's hair, "I'm fine, Sammy. I was worried about you."

Sam looked up at me, his green eyes wide, "You know how fast I am."

I nodded, "I know you are."

"Look!" Sam exclaimed- a little too loud for comfort- and slipped the backpack he had grabbed off his shoulders, "I got this! I didn't open it yet. I wanted to find you first."

"Okay," I peered up over my brother's head. I couldn't hear the sound of fighting anymore and was concerned the other Tributes were creeping among the houses, silently moving closer and closer.

"Let's find someplace to hide and then we'll look in the pack," I suggested and Sam nodded standing and slinging the backpack over his shoulder again. I put on hand on the back of Sam's neck- to guide him and yank him behind my body should one of the other Tributes show up- and we crept silently away from the side of the house I had stopped at.

We moved deeper into the abandoned town, farther away from the Cornucopia. Sammy and I moved as quietly as possible, not wanting to draw attention to ourselves. I kept my eye out for someplace safe to stay for the night. I did not want to venture into the forest; the black trees were leafless and I could hear the distant rusty cawing of crows. There would be nowhere to hide amongst the skeletal trees.

Across the old dirt street that was the main road of the village, I spied a house with its roof half-collapsed. Perfect.

Looking to my left and right, I didn't see any of our fellow Tributes. Moving my hand from Sam's neck, I gripped his upper arm tightly.

"Let's go, Sammy," I whispered into my brother's ear, "Quick."

We jogged across the road, gravel crunching beneath our shoes and I cringed at the sound, and towards the side of the house I had my eyes on. The front door was hanging off its hinges, the lintel posts looking like they would fall down if I even so much as breathed on them. I guided my brother around the back and smiled in triumph when I saw a set of cellar doors. They were closed but not locked. Bending over, I carefully lifted one of the door and held my breath. There was a thin screeching sound and dust floated down from the wooden door and I froze. Sam glanced up at me, his green eyes wide. He looked over his shoulder, clearly anxious.

Normally I would have first taken the time to explore the basement and make sure there was nothing dangerous down there but there was no way I was leaving Sam alone.

"C'mon Sammy," I motioned with one hand and Sam climbed down the rickety wooden stairs down to the dirt floor. I closed the cellar doors quietly but tightly and turned to my brother.

He was already sitting on the floor with his legs splayed out in front of him with the backpack open between them. I couldn't help but smile. We were in danger and could possibly be dead within a few days and Sam still managed to look like a little boy again, happy and carefree. Like he rarely was.

I sat down on the floor across from Sam and glanced around. The dirt floor was cold and damp, as was the air in the cellar. There were spiderwebs covering the wooden ceiling and support beams. The small square window that faced the road had no glass inside it.

"What's inside?" I asked Sam as he dug his small hands inside the bag.

Sam pulled out a blanket made of the same black material as our jackets. That would be useful. I took the blanket from my brother's hands and wrapped it around his shoulders.

My little brother chuckled and for a moment I almost forgot that we were in the middle of the Games.

"What else do we have, Sammy?" I asked and he pulled out a silver metal water bottle. I snatched it from my brother's hands and unscrewed the black plastic cap. Sam watched expectantly as I tipped the bottle up towards my mouth and frowned. No water came out.

"It's empty," Sam whispered sadly.

I set the bottle aside and shrugged.

"We'll get some water later," I told Sam and he nodded, glancing down like he usually did when he was told he couldn't have something because we were too poor.

There was also a small tin container of matches, a length of thick rope and a large blue square of plastic in the backpack.

Two of the items was really useful to us right now. I spread the tarp on the floor so that we wouldn't have to sit directly on the dirt and put the tin of matches and rope back into the backpack. Sam snuggled right up against me, trying to drape half of the blanket over me so that I would be warm as well.

"Dean?" Sam whispered but I shushed him. My brother stared up at me with large eyes for a moment before wrapping his arms around me and resting his cheek against my chest.

W

Night fell slowly. The cellar grew darker and the shadows lengthened to swallow up the wan light we did have. Sam and I huddled together on the tarp, wearing our jackets with the blanket folded around us. We didn't speak in the intervening hours. We both knew that the other Tributes were out there somewhere and if they heard us we'd be in trouble. Sam slept on and off, whimpering occasionally from a nightmare. I comforted him quietly and fought my own desire to close my eyes and rest. While I kept an eye out I thought about what Sam and I were going to do. I knew it was more than likely that only one of us would make it out of the Arena alive. I was rooting for Sam. If I could get my hands on a weapon I could defend my brother against the other Tributes. I knew we needed water and the old well in the middle of town with the broken bell above it seemed like a good place to look. On route, I could check out the Cornucopia again, see if there were any weapons still inside.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up straight. I wrapped an arm around Sam's middle and pulled him tight against me. I felt him go stiff with fear.

"Shhh," I whispered so quietly it was almost inaudible.

Footfalls crunched on the gravel and dirt road outside of the house and a peal of laughter was brayed out, far too loud in the quiet night.

Standing up as silently as a shadow, I moved to the window, dragging Sam along with me. I peaked out at the very edge of the window, squinting in the moonlight to try and catch sight of who was out there. Pinning Sam against me with on hand on his chest, I slapped my other palm over his mouth when he started to ask a question.

Narrowing my eyes, I caught sight of Glamour's blonde hair. I could see Vanity walking along beside her. There were two boys with them, one I recognized as Carey and the other I didn't know.

I jumped- and I was pretty sure the Tributes outside did as well- when the national anthem began to play and high in the sky, above the tree-line, Archimedes De Soto's face appeared.

"And so concludes the first night of the 125th Hunger Games," he announced loudly, grinning like a madman, "Our Quarter Quell. We hope you've all enjoyed today's action and will stay tuned for more excitement tomorrow!"

I glanced down and saw Sam's green eyes wide and terrified, as if the man would alert the Tributes outside to our location. Looking up at the sky again, I saw the faces of the boys and girls who'd died today.

I recognized Persephone from Eleven, first, her name written in golden lettering underneath her picture. Than there was Sheaf from Nine; the girl Glamour had hacked at with that battle-ax. Velda from District Five, Jonah- Carey's fellow Tribute from Four- and finally both girls from Three; Brindley and Justwell.

The national anthem played once more and everything grew quiet again. I lowered my gaze to the road but Glamour and the others had vanished into the night again.

Stepped away from the window I sank back down onto the tarp. Sam landed heavily beside me.

"Dean? Do you think Dad was watching?" he asked and I nodded. I could just imagine our father sitting down on his bed, exhausted and covered in coal dust from head to toe, staring at the television screen, hoping and praying that our faces wouldn't show up those of the dead.

I drew the blanket around Sam's shoulders and laid down on my back. My brother curled up against me and sighed quietly, falling asleep.

Six were dead. Eighteen were left. Only one would make it out of here alive.

I really didn't like those odds but didn't have much choice. Sam and I couldn't do what Katniss and Peeta had done all those years ago. The Gamemakers wouldn't let that sort of rebellion slide again. It had been a miracle the two of them and even been allowed to leave their Arena. All I could do was make sure I stayed alive long enough to see Sam announced the Victor.

W

Sam stretched against me the next morning as he awoke. I blinked tiredly and knuckled the sleep from my eyes. I had stayed awake all night long. Afraid to fall asleep in case Glamour and the others found us.

"Dean?" my brother asked in a whisper.

"Yeah, Sammy?" I mumbled and grabbed the blanket, began rolling it up so we could put it in the backpack.

"I'm hungry," Sam answered as though he was afraid to say so. I frowned. We weren't unused to going without food. Sometimes we went for two or three days without anything to eat because the supply train had been delayed on its way to Twelve. Sometimes Dad got mad at Sam if he complained about being hungry; yelling at Sam that there was nothing he could do about it so he had better shut up if he knew what was good for him. I knew Dad always felt bad for getting angry at Sam. I think he just hated feeling so powerless, not being able to give us food when the Merchants never wanted for any of that.

"We'll find something to eat this morning, don't worry," I told Sam confidently and began rolling up the tarp.

"Let me help!" Sam exclaimed and together we packed up our meagre possessions. I let Sam carry the backpack since he had been the one to find it and carefully crept up the stairs to the cellar doors.

It was still very early- the sun wasn't even over the treetops yet- so I decided that we could go and scope out the Cornucopia and the well. I opened the cellar door and poked my head out, my gaze eye-level with the ground. A thick mist hung close to the grass but I didn't see any of the other Tributes. I heard the caw of crows in the forests surrounding the town but no sound of voices.

I stepped onto the grass and scanned the area more thoroughly, smiling. Sam scrambled up from the basement and stood beside me, his hand slipped into mine.

I squeezed my brother's hand and we slipped behind the house. We were not going to stroll down the street.

My stomach growled loudly and Sam looked up at me.

"We'll find something soon," I whispered as we headed back towards the centre of town.

I could see the Cornucopia, a dull golden colour against the dull grey sky and made a bee-line towards it.

Snap!

Sam and I froze at the sound of a twig breaking somewhere off to our left, behind one of the houses. I put a finger to my lips and Sam nodded, his hand slipping from him to hold onto the backpack's straps in case he needed to run for safety.

I squinted through the carpet of fog, trying to decide if we were in danger. A large bird appeared around the side of the mouldering, its feathers grey-and-brown speckled. It was the size of the turkeys I'd seen hanging up in the butcher's shop in the Merchant's area of Twelve. The bird didn't seem to notice my brother or I, its short yellow beak pecked at the grass as it searched for bugs. It made a soft clucking sound as it walked and ate.

My stomach gave a long whine of longing and saliva flooded my mouth. Although we had no weapons right now, I was heartened by the fact that we wouldn't starve here.

I tapped Sam's shoulder and he reluctantly moved forward. The bird- a groosling- I realized, simply turned around as we began to move and walked leisurely around the side of the house again.

The rest of the walk to the Cornucopia was uneventful. We saw no one and I counted that as a blessing. I made Sam walk behind me as we approached the large conical shape of the Cornucopia. We were approaching it from behind and I didn't want to surprise anyone inside- or be taken by surprise. I frowned. Most of the weapons were gone- the backpacks were all gone. There were wooden crates still left untouched though. I motioned Sam to follow me and we stepped inside the Cornucopia. My brother picked up a slingshot that looked as if it had been discarded, nearly hidden beneath another sheet of plastic. Sam slipped the backpack off his shoulders and set it down on top of a crate. He grabbed the tarp and began struggling to fold it.

"We might need it if it rains," Sam grunted an explanation as I conceded and helped him fold the large sheet. I nodded, thinking of the lean-to Dad and I had built out of rubbish from the Heap. These plastic sheets were not dissimilar to the canvas we used to keep rain from seeping through the cracks in the roof. Although Sam had been far too young to remember such things, it had taken a while for our house to actually look like something more than just a pile of garbage. Sam and I had often spent hours in the Heap after school, searching for abandoned items that we could use.

Curious about what was inside the crates, I knelt in front of one and tried to lift the lid- it was nailed shut- and swore. Glancing around I caught sight of a spear that had been broken in half. Grabbing the end with the blade still attached, I slipped the flat of the spear underneath the lid and pushed up with all my strength. There was a loud cracking, wrenching sound as the nails were forced from the wood and the lid lifted up. Once I had enough leverage I pulled the lid off the crate and stared down at what was inside.

Apples.

"C'mere Sammy," I whispered happily. Sam dragged the backpack over as I reached into the crate and picked up a piece of bright red fruit.

Tossing the apple to Sam, I chose another one for myself and eagerly bit into it. The sweet juice flooded my mouth and I gratefully crunched the white meat. Sam grinned at me as he ate his own apple.

We both ate one more each, leaving nothing behind- eating even the cores- Sam and I stuffed as many apples as would fit in the backpack. I hefted the broken spear. It wasn't the best weapon but it was the one I felt most comfortable with. The others would we too heavy or unwieldy to bring along. Sitting back on my haunches, I stared down at the crate, there were still a good amount of apples inside and I knew that if we left it as it was, another Tribute would profit. I didn't like the idea of sabotaging food- coming from a District where every morsel is cherished as though it was gold- but I knew that we couldn't have anyone else finding the apples.

I looked over my shoulder to where our pedestals had been- to where the grenades still were hidden- and realized what I had to do. It was dangerous but what wasn't in this Game?

"Stay here, Sammy," I stood and pushed experimentally against the crate, it moved, "I'll be right back."

I wasn't sure it would work. I knew that a clever Tribute would remember where the bombs were hidden and get the apples but I was hoping that hunger and desperation would make at least one fellow competitor reckless.

Sam watched as I pushed the crate out of the shadow of the Cornucopia, towards the bombs.

"No! Dean! Stop!" Sam cried out and grabbed the back of my jacket. I paused and looked at him, "We have to do this. We can't let the others get the apples."

"I know," Sam said, his green eyes frightened and determined, "Let me do it. I'm lighter than you and faster."

I shook my head. No way was I going to put Sam in danger like that.

"Can you even push this?" I indicated the crate. Sam nodded and I knew that without a doubt whether he was strong enough or not, he was going to place those apples in the trap.

"You don't even know where the grenades are!" I hissed and pulled my jacket out of my brother's grasp.

Sam just gave me a secretive smile and I realized that while I'd been standing on my pedestal, searching out Sam, my brother had been paying attention to the location of the bombs.

Stunned, I didn't say anything as Sam zipped his jacket up halfway and began stuffing apples inside.

"Make sure no one comes by, okay?" Sam smiled and carefully moved forward, shoving the crate with one hand while holding the apples hidden inside his jacket with the other.

My mouth grew dry as coal dust and my heart began to pound. All I could picture was my baby brother being torn apart by an exploding grenade, never knowing what had hit him. My grip on the handle of the spear tightened as I worried.

It's too late to stop him now, I told myself, so just keep watch.

I tried to divide my time equally between surveying the area and keeping an eye on my brother. My heart was hammering in my chest and even though it was still fairly cool out- the sun had yet to appear and burn off the mist and dew- I felt sweat begin to bead on my face and drip down my spine.

Sam moved towards the grenades carefully, taking each step gingerly. He paused as he set his feet down before putting his full weight on the ground. Even though he had his back to me I could see his shoulders were tense and could just picture his face scrunched in concentration, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed.

Sam pushed the crate ahead of him, seeming to calculate each move before he made it, well aware that the weight of the wooden box was more than sufficient to trip one of the bombs.

After what seemed like ages Sam finally stopped, he'd probably reached the centre of the circle of bombs. Reaching inside his jacket, Sam pulled out one of the apples. I tore my gaze away from him for a moment to glance over my shoulder suspiciously, listening for the sound of approaching footsteps.

When I looked back at Sam he was ever-so-carefully placing the apple on the ground as if the fruit was made of glass and would shatter if he handled it too roughly.

What was he doing? I wondered.

As I watched Sam take out another apple and place it on the ground a few feet from the first one with the same cautious gentleness I suddenly realized what Sam had in mind. He was setting the apples on top of the buried grenades!

I couldn't help but smile at how brilliant my little brother was. He may only be twelve but he was one of the smartest people I knew.

I had only wanted to position the crate in the middle of the circle of bombs and hope for the best but Sam was going a step further. The grenades were triggered by weight- that's why they'd explode if a Tribute stepped on one before the gong sounded- so Sam was putting pressure on them. If a hungry kid picked up one of the apples, he or she would trip the bomb and be blown to smithereens. I noticed that Sam wasn't putting apples on all twenty-four grenades. He put some in between the bombs so that it wouldn't be so obvious what he'd been trying to do.

After placing all the apples in his jacket, Sam turned back to the crate and grabbed a handful more of the fruit, setting them beside the wooden box temptingly.

Slipping easily past the grenades, Sam returned to my side, smiling.

I wrapped an arm around him in a one-handed hug.

"Can we see what's in the other crates?" Sam asked, his face flushed with excitement.

I nodded, "We should get some water first."

The well with that busted bell wasn't too far from the Cornucopia and I wanted to make sure we had drinking water if we had to leave the area in a hurry. Although we hadn't seen any other Tributes since last night, that didn't mean they weren't on their way to this very spot right now.

Sam nodded and dug the water bottle from the backpack.

I hoped the well wasn't dry. If it was, I wasn't sure where we were going to get water. I really didn't want to go into the surrounding forest.

The crumbling well didn't look very inviting. As we approached, I couldn't tear my gaze away from the bell with its carving of a tree etched into its rusted metal. Sam climbed up on the wall and peered down into the depths of the dark well. There was a tin bucket suspended above the well and I quickly untied the fraying rope and began lowering the bucket down slowly.

I smiled at Sam when I heard the bucket splash at the bottom. We had water!

My brother unscrewed the black plastic cap from the bottle and held it ready.

I stared into the bucket as I brought it up. The water was brown and murky but it was the best we had. I set the bucket down on the edge of the well and Sam collected some water into the bottle and taking an experimental swig of the liquid before I could stop him. He grimaced and held the bottle out to me. I took it cautiously and sipped at the water. It was ice cold and had an earthy taste like dirt and dead leaves. Bits of sand and gravel crunched between my teeth as I swallowed.

I shrugged. It would have to do.

I handed the bottle back to Sam and he filled it up completely before putting the lid back on and stuffing it into the backpack.

For a moment I thought about cutting the rope to prevent the other Tributes from accessing the water but didn't. If I did that, Sam and I wouldn't have any water either.

"Okay Sammy," I whispered and lifted the spear, "We should go."

I didn't want to stay out in the open longer than I had to. It made me nervous.

I began guiding Sam away from the well, back towards the houses to find a new place to hide- I didn't want to stay in the same location more than once- when my brother cried out as he was wrenched away from me, his ankles tangled in a bola; a length of rope with a round weight on each end.

"Sam!" I cried and hurried towards my struggling brother. I lifted my spear, knowing that whomever had thrown the weapon would be nearby and held it with one hand while I tugged at the rope wrapped around my brother's legs.

"Dean! Look out!" Sam cried and I just had time to turn around and raise the spear to block the blow of a sword. The weapon cut into the wooden handle of the spear but didn't break through it- thankfully- and I shoved forward, trying to take this fight away from my brother.

The kid with the sword- a boy from Eight, the textiles producing District- snarled and yanked the sword out of the spear's handle. I had to keep his attention focused on me and not on Sam, who was fumbling away at the rope still, trying to untangle himself quickly.

I thrust the spear at the boy but he jumped back, slashing at me with the sword. I dodged the blade, but only just.

I realized that I was edging the kid towards the crumbling well and pushed forwards again, stabbing at his chest with the spear.

He brought the sword down and I wasn't fast enough to block him; he cut my arm through my jacket and I hissed in pain. Not in the mood to carry this fight any longer, I jabbed at his eyes with the spearhead and he backed away, his foot catching one of the stones that had fallen from the well as it slowly decayed. With a startled cry, the boy fell and landed heavily on his back, his sword dropping to the dusty road beside him.

For a moment, the boy stared up at me, looked me in the eye and I was surprised to see no resentment on his face. He, like the rest of us, knew the stakes. And like most of us, knew that we'd never be leaving this place alive. I didn't want to do it but I had to. If I let him live he would come after Sam and I again. I nodded once and brought the blade of the spear down into his chest, directly into his heart to make his death as quick and painless as possible.

The boy instantly went limp, his eyes growing dark and dull. I yanked the spear out and dropped it, staggering back.

That was the first time I had killed. I continued to back up until I bumped into something and I jumped.

"Dean!" Sam cried and wrapped his arms around me. I relaxed, feeling drained.

Bang! Sam and I both startled at the sound of the cannon- the sound announcing the boy's death- and I stared dumbly at the sky. I suppose there had been cannon fire yesterday during the fight at the Cornucopia but I hadn't noticed because of the sounds of fighting drowned it out. A hovercraft would come once we were gone and pick up the boy's body to take it back to his home.

"We gotta go," my brother reminded me and I nodded dumbly. I turned to Sam, visually checking him for injuries.

"Are you hurt?" I asked, my voice sounding shocked even to my own ears.

Sam shook his head, "I scraped my elbows but I'm-"

"You're bleeding!" he cried and grabbed at my arm.

Looking down I saw a gash running almost the length of my forearm; it was indeed oozing but it didn't look too deep.

"I'm alright," I muttered and moved towards the boy's body again. I grabbed the spear and stepped on the wooden handle, breaking it so that only about an inch of the wood protruded from the blade- we could use a knife- and picked up the sword, hefting it.

"Dean, let's go," Sam cried, clearly scared.

I nodded and turned to follow my brother wherever he led, still in a state of shock and not really thinking straight yet.

We said nothing to one another while we walked. I carried the sword in one hand and what was left of the spear in the other, seeing nothing in front of me but that kid's eyes right before I killed him.

The boy had been young- thirteen or fourteen- and I had killed him in cold blood.

No, I thought, not cold blood. He attacked Sammy. He was going to kill Sammy. You were protecting your brother.

Still, the knowledge didn't make me feel better. The boy had been only doing what he was supposed to do. He likely didn't want to hurt anyone but he knew that if he didn't kill his fellow Tributes, they would get him.

"Dean, in here," Sam's voice brought me out of my morbid musings and I looked up to see my brother standing in the doorway of what looked like an old cow shed.

Before I could stop him, Sam ducked inside and I had no choice but to follow.

Yes, this place had most definitely once been a home for animals. Although the smell was faint, I could still catch a faint whiff of manure and there was ancient straw scattered on the concrete floor.

Sam walked to the back of the shed and sat down with his back against the wall.

"Come on, Dean," he encouraged and I followed his instructions, feeling like I was the little brother.

"Take off your jacket, okay?" he slipped the backpack off and rummaged through it before taking out the bottle of water and an apple.

I did as Sam asked, wincing a little as I pulled at the fabric starting to stick to the gash on my arm with dried blood.

Carefully, Sam poured some water into his hand and brought it towards my arm. With his free hand, he manoeuvred my arm so that it was resting in his cupped palm, the water feeling cool against my skin.

"I know I'm not Missouri," Sam said, "But I don't know what else to do."

I closed my eyes as Sam tried his best to clean the cut on my arm. We had gone through the healing station during training but we had no alcohol or bandages to disinfect or cover the wound with. I was just thankful it wasn't deep- the blood was already starting to clot- or we would be in trouble.

Once Sam was satisfied that the cut clean enough, he put the water bottle back, wiped his hands off on his jacket and handed me the apple.

I smiled and took a large bite of the fruit, coming back to myself more and more as I ate. When I was finished I sat back against the wall and sighed. Sam curled up against me and stared up into my face for a moment.

"Dean?" He murmured quietly.

"Yeah?" I peered down into his candid face.

"Thanks for that."

I frowned. Sam shouldn't be thanking me for killing someone. That just felt… wrong. Besides, Sam already knew I'd do anything to protect him. Back in Twelve I wouldn't have hesitated to go against Increase Grim and his Peacekeepers if he'd threatened Sam and here, in the Arena, I guess I'd kill to keep my little brother safe.

I wrapped my uninjured arm around Sam and pulled him closer, into a hug.

I hoped I could continue protecting Sam, even if it meant killing again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from a Rush song.


	9. Different World

When I woke up my arm was aching badly and my mouth was as dry as coal dust. I blinked sleepily and smiled when I saw the silver water bottle sitting by my side. Looking up, I gasped in dismay when I realized that I was alone. Sam was gone.

The backpack was still there but my brother was missing.

"Sammy?" I whispered and craned my neck to get a better look into the recesses of the cowshed, "Sam?"

I received no reply.

Standing, I stepped away from the wall, knocking over the water bottle in my haste- luckily the lid was still on and it didn't leak- and headed toward the door.

Where was he? No, he couldn't be gone. He had to be here somewhere. I was supposed to protect him. I couldn't fail.

Panicking, I leaned against the doorframe and poked my head out, squinting in the late afternoon light.

"Sam!" I cried, not caring if anyone heard me.

I retreated back inside and grabbed the backpack and water bottle, prepared to leave and go looking for my brother.

There was a creak and the door opened. I startled, thinking one of my fellow Tributes had heard me, I took the end of the spear from my pocket, and turned around to see…

Sam. He smiled at me, hands holding onto his jacket which was bulging out in front of him.

"Sammy!" I exclaimed and rushed forward, gripping his arms.

"Don't you ever do that to me again! You understand me?" I demanded, shaking him for emphasis. I could feel my heartbeat starting to return to normal and tears of relief prickled the corners of my eyes.

Sam's eyes were wide with shock. He clearly wasn't expecting such a welcome and he bowed his head, shamefaced.

"M'sorry, Dean," he murmured, "I was just getting us some more food-"

"What? You went back to the Cornucopia? Are you insane?" I asked, furious with my brother, "You could have been killed!"

Still staring guiltily at the ground, Sam sniffed, "I- I was real c-careful, Dean. I didn't see anyone outside. I just thought… well, the apples won't l-last… so-"

"So what, Sam?" I asked, my grip on his arms tightening, sending pain shooting through my forearm.

"I got us some jerk meat," my brother stuffed his hand into his jacket and pulled out a long strip of dried meat and held it up for me to see, "This'll keep so we won't go hungry once we finish the apples."

I couldn't stay angry with my brother. I was just relieved he was alright.

"Oh Sam," I muttered and hugged his to my chest. I closed my eyes and sucked in a shaky breath, "I was just scared you were hurt."

Pulling back, I lifted Sam's chin with one hand and looked into his eyes, "That was very smart; thinking ahead… good work… just don't do it again. We always go together, okay?"

Sam nodded and I took the piece of jerk from him.

"Does your arm hurt anymore?" he asked sheepishly.

I shook my head and chewed at the dried meat. It actually didn't taste too bad.

"What do you say we get out of here?" I asked since I had already packed our supplies.

"Okay," Sam said, "Let me just put this away."

I set the backpack on the ground and waited for Sam to shove the jerk meat inside.

I grabbed the water bottle and handed it to my brother once he had packed the food, picking up the sword for myself. I smiled when I saw the end of the slingshot Sam had picked up earlier, sticking out from his jacket pocket. At least he hadn't been defenceless out there.

"Ready?" I asked as Sam slung the backpack over his shoulder.

My brother nodded and I laid a hand on the nape of his neck as we cautiously exited the cow shed.

The sun was only just past its apex; I guessed I had been asleep for quite a few hours then, but still very warm.

"We might have to get more water soon, Sammy," I muttered, mostly to myself but my brother nodded.

"I didn't want to leave you without the bottle, Dean," he whispered, as if in explanation, "In case you woke up and were thirsty."

"That's okay, Sammy," I told him, "I think we have enough to get us through the rest of the day."

I stared around, trying to decide where to go next.

"Where do you think the others are?" Sam asked quietly and I shrugged, "I don't know."

"Can we go into the town?"

I nodded. That seemed the only place to go. The forest on our other side still looked eerie and ominous, not a safe haven, so we definitely weren't going into the trees if we could help it.

Keeping a hold of my sibling, I walked forward, listening intently for the sounds of the other Tributes.

I frowned, thinking as I walked. If there was a lull in the Arena, when everything seemed quiet, the Gamemakers would often have a trick up their sleeve to get things moving again; usually a natural disaster like a hurricane or a forest fire, even an earthquake, to draw the contestants closer together and ensure a confrontation.

What were they waiting for?

What did Azazel King have planned?

"Dean! Look!" Sam exclaimed and pointed to a dilapidated building that looked like all of the others around it- crumbling, grey wood and paint flaking into almost non-existence- but for the small brass bell hanging beside the door.

"Do you think it's a schoolhouse?" Sam asked.

"Probably," I answered.

Sam started walking curiously towards the building and I followed along, glancing around warily.

My brother had been right. It had once been a one-room schoolhouse. Different than the one we knew from Twelve. Our school was housed in a bland, grey concrete building. We were separated into groups depending on our ages and were taught many important things such as the imports and exports of all the Districts and the Capitol, the words to our national anthem, and of course, what had happened in the Dark Days.

This schoolhouse had wooden floors and an old dusty blackboard along one wall. Ancient desks of metal and wood were piled into one corner as though in preparation for a bonfire.

Sam walked up to the board and stared at it for a moment. Smiling, he picked up a tiny nub of white chalk and carefully, slowly printed his name. My brother looked over his shoulder at me and grinned proudly.

I didn't even bother returning the gesture. That would be the one and only word my brother ever learned to spell. Since we were not the children of Merchants- despite our mother's lineage- we were not taught to read or write, anything except for our own names. Coalminers and their wives did not need to be literate.

"C'mon Sammy," I called, feeling uncomfortable, "Let's get out of here."

Sam nodded, wiping his name off the blackboard and followed me as I stepped out the door.

Glamour, Vanity, Carey and the boy who I now recognized as Helix from District Two stared at us from the road.

"Four against two," I said, "That doesn't seem like a fair fight to me."

"You're dead," Glamour crowed, her short blonde hair looking even paler in the evening sunlight.

I held the sword out in front of myself, ready to defend my brother.

"Run Sammy," I muttered, barely opening my mouth. From the corner of my eye I saw my brother shake his head and reach into his pocket for the slingshot.

Glamour smirked, hefty the deadly-looking battle axe she still carried. Vanity had a mace, its heavy spiked head resting against her thigh. Helix had a dagger clutched in one fist. Carey didn't appear to have any weapon at all and he didn't look particularly happy to see us.

I saw movement beside me and saw that Sam had the slingshot ready, a sizeable rock nestled in the pocket of the weapon. I smiled; he must have been gathering stones as well as jerk beef while he was out.

"Leave us alone," Sam demanded, his small voice serious.

Vanity and Glamour laughed, not the least bit intimidated.

"Who's going to make us, you, pipsqueak?" Glamour mocked.

"Get out of here, Sam," I tried again, desperately wanting my brother to escape.

Instead, my brother loosed the slingshot, the stone hitting Vanity in the forehead with a sickening crack! The girl cried out and dropped the mace, both hands going to her brow.

"You'll pay for that!" Glamour snarled and leaped at us, axe raised.

I shoved Sam to one side and held the sword up, blocking the girl's weapon.

"Dean!" Sam cried and I turned to see Helix had an arm across Sam's neck, the dagger pointed at my brother's face.

I pushed against Glamour's axe and she stumbled, falling backwards off the porch.

"Let him go," I told Helix. The other boy just shook his head, "I don't think so."

"Dean," Carey called and grabbed at my shoulder; I wrenched my arm out of his grasp.

"Look," I returned my attention to Helix and Sam, my brother's eyes welling with tears of fear, "Let Sam go. You can have me, just leave him alone."

"No!" Sam cried and struggled against the older boy.

In my peripheral vision I saw Glamour and Vanity moving towards Helix. The dark-haired girl had a bruise and gash on her forehead from where the stone had struck her. I didn't know where Carey was.

"C'mon Helix," Glamour urged the boy, "Stick the little shit and let's go."

Sam whimpered fearfully and struggled all the more fiercely.

Helix, teeth bared in a sneer, pressed the tip of the dagger against my brother's cheek, just underneath, drawing blood.

"No, don't-" I began but drew back in shock when Sam's attacker jerked suddenly and fell away from him, an arrow buried in his eye socket.

Glamour snarled angrily, grabbing for Sam but he knocked her hands away, backing up in my direction. Vanity cried out in pain as another arrow whistled through the air and hit her in the shoulder. She dropped her weapon, her arm useless.

"SAM!" I cried and ran forwards, snatching at my brother and spinning him around, beginning to run even before he'd gained his bearings.

I didn't care where we were going as long as it was far away from the other Tributes. Panting and wheezing, my lungs burning, I dragged my brother along behind me.

"Dean! Dean, stop!" Sam called out and I staggered to a halt. I drew my brother close to and crouched down, inspecting his face. Tears and blood streamed down his cheeks.

I wiped at his face and frowned at the cut left there by Helix's dagger.

"You're okay," I murmured softly, "It's not that bad."

It will probably leave a scar, I thought but didn't say that out loud.

"Wh-who was that?" Sam asked, "The arrows-"

"Her name is Ava," a voice spoke up and I turned around to face Carey.

"What do you want?" I snarled, hand gripping my sword tightly.

The other boy smiled apologetically and held his hands up, "I'm not going to hurt you."

I narrowed my eyes and didn't relax.

"Listen, I was only with the others because it was safer than being on my own," he tried to explain, "With Jonah dead, well, I didn't have any support."

"What about Sponsors?" I asked, "You're a Career, shouldn't they be throwing supplies at you?"

Carey chuckled humourlessly, "I wish."

He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair, "I'm sorry, I didn't want your brother to get hurt like that."

"Okay," I said, "So, what do you want?"

"Can I… can I stay with you two? I'm not some asshole Career everyone expects me to be," he said, "I don't want to be here either."

I wasn't sure we could trust him.

Maybe I should just kill him now.

I glanced at Sam, the cut oozing blood down his cheek again and sighed.

"Fine," I agreed, "But if you betray us and Sam gets hurt, you'll be going back to Four in a pine box."

W

Sam nestled in beside me, eyes half-closed as he munched on his apple. I wrapped a comforting arm around him and glanced over at Casey. He was sitting on the opposite side of the room, knees bent and his expression far away.

Sighing, I reached into our backpack and brought out an apple, rolling it across the floor towards the other boy.

Carey looked at me, surprised, and picked up the piece of fruit, muttering his thanks.

"What can you tell me about that Ava girl?" I asked as I finished my own apple and Carey just began his.

"You don't want to meet her, that I know for sure," Carey said with certainty, "She'd make one hell of a Career."

"Knows her way around a bow and arrow," I commented and the other boy nodded, "You're not too bad yourself, I hear."

I grimaced, "I never should have done that during the Evaluation."

"I thought that was very brave," Carey admitted quietly, "No one ever talks about them, you know? It's like they all want to make it some bad dream."

"The Capitol doesn't help matters either," I answered, knowing he was talking about Katniss and Peeta.

"It must be pretty bad in Twelve," Carey said out loud, tossing his apple core onto the floor.

I frowned, not sure exactly what to say. Yes, conditions were not great in our District but then again, Twelve could have ended up like Thirteen, wiped off the continent in a nuclear blast.

"We make do," I answered finally, "We survive."

We drifted into uncomfortable silence for a long moment.

"Can you really swim good?" Sam spoke up, "Our teacher said that everyone from Four are the best swimmers in Panem."

Casey smiled, "I learned to swim even before I could walk."

I glanced down at my brother, his expression showing that he was very impressed by that feat.

"How are you feeling, Sammy?" I asked. The cut on his cheek had stopped bleeding and he had calmed down.

"Better," he said, "Sleepy."

"Why don't you close your eyes then? I'll make sure you're safe."

"And Carey…" Sam mumbled, shifting so that he could be closer to me.

"Carey what?" I asked, eyebrow raised and I glanced at the other Tribute.

"Carey will keep me safe too."

I didn't answer that. The boy in question gave me an uncomfortable smile.

W

"Maybe we should go into the woods," Carey suggested but I shook my head.

"There's no protection there," I argued, "At least here we can hide in the buildings and we're close to water."

The other boy frowned, "But the other Tributes will be here too. I don't know about you but I'd rather not meet up with them again anytime soon."

I stopped walking, "If we don't see them, the Gamemakers will find a way to get us together."

Carey ran a hand through his dark hair and nodded, "Okay, you're right."

"You don't have to stay with us," I told him, "You can leave."

"I didn't say anything about leaving," Carey argued, "I just don't think it's safe to stay here for very long."

"This entire Arena isn't safe," I reminded him.

"Dean, can we go?" Sam asked and tugged on my jacket sleeve like he was a toddler again.

"Yeah," I said and took hold of my brother's arm, "You can either come with us or not, Carey, I don't care."

The other boy didn't move. I guided Sam away, wondering absentmindedly how difficult it would be to catch a groosling.

I jumped at the sound of pounding feet and terrified screaming. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Vanity and Glamour running towards us. My hold on Sam tightened and we began running as well.

I stumbled and nearly fell, Sam crying out as I staggered. I peered over my shoulder and my eyes widened in shock. Although the girls were still following us, they had terrified expressions on their faces and now I could see that they were running towards us and not after us. A huge black cloud that crackled with lightning was rushing just beyond them, quickly gaining ground.

"Dean! In here!" I heard Carey call out- I had almost forgotten about him- and turned to where he stood in the doorway of the very schoolhouse we'd be in the day before.

Sam and I bolted through the doorway and Carey slammed the door shut.

"What is that?" Carey asked and I shook my head, "The Gamemakers… must have thought it up…"

"I don't hear anything," the other boy said and I realized that it had gone deathly quiet outside. I couldn't hear any cries of fear or running footsteps.

"M-maybe it's gone," Sam suggested uncertainly.

"I don't-" Carey began when the door burst open on its hinges and Vanity was framed on the threshold, grinning.

I immediately shoved Sam behind me and held my sword out in a defensive position.

Vanity stepped inside and blinked, her eyes turning completely black and I gasped in shock. I began backing up, one hand fisted in my brother's jacket to keep him where I wanted him.

The girl cocked her head, her black eyes fixed on Carey.

"Your times up, Four," she said and stepped towards him, hand raised.

I heard Sam hit the back wall of the schoolhouse and I glanced at the broken window beside us. I shifted over carefully, keeping my gaze on the two other Tributes.

Carey stepped towards Vanity, taking up her full attention.

I grabbed Sam under the arms and dumped him through the empty window.

Vanity turned her coal-black eyes on me but Carey moved first, he rushed towards her and drew a star-shaped blade from an inner pocket of his jacket, slashing out at the girl with it. The blade sliced into Vanity just below her collarbone and blood began to bloom, dark against her black jacket. She didn't react though. Instead, her eyes flashed to Carey and the fingers of her outstretched hand flicked. Carey's neck broke with a sickening crunch and he dropped like a stone. Dead without having a hand laid against him.

I dropped out the window, grabbed my dazed brother and ran as fast as I could towards the forest, shocked at what I had just witnessed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from an Iron Maiden song.


	10. Run Through The Jungle

I didn't dare look over my shoulder. I plunged into the woods, practically dragging Sam behind me, trying to put as much distance between Vanity and us.

I didn't know where I was going or care, for that matter, as long as we were heading away from the abandoned town.

Branches snatched at my clothes and scratched my face, fallen limbs threatening to trip me but I surged on, my grip on Sam's hand probably keeping him the only thing from falling.

I knew we wouldn't be able to keep this pace up for much longer and I was right.

I could feel Sam's hand slipping from my own and my brother called to get my attention.

"Dean! I can't run anymore!"

I stopped, panting and sweating. My brother leaned against a tree and dropped the backpack from his shoulders, digging around in it until he found the water bottle and held it out to me.

"Thanks Sammy," I said and took a quick drink, handing the bottle back to him.

"Do you want an apple?" he asked, plucking a piece of fruit from the pack.

I shook my head, "We should keep moving."

Sam looked up at me with wide, green eyes, a bite already taken out of the apple he had begun eating.

"C'mon," I encouraged and Sam straightened up, slinging the backpack over his narrow shoulders again.

"Do you want me to carry that for a while?" I asked but Sam shrugged, "I got it Dean."

We walked slowly through the bare woods, eyes and ears keen for the sounds of footsteps or voices.

I thought about what we had seen, Vanity with as black as coal and her terrifying ability to kill without even laying a hand on anyone. I remembered Azazel King promising that this year's Games would be one that everyone would remember.

Whatever had happened, there was without a doubt the Gamemakers had orchestrated it.

Perhaps the Capitol citizens were growing bored already. That would be a reason to start pulling out their surprises.

The sound of a tree branch breaking somewhere off to our right had both Sam and I frozen on the stop. I reached out my hand and grabbed one of the backpack's straps, ready to run if we had to.

The sound didn't come again and after a minute longer we continued.

W

We walked for hours, seeing no one. Finally we had to stop. The sky was darkening with night and Sammy could barely keep his eyes open. I found us a spot to spend the night; a tree had fallen at some point and its trunk hovered a foot or so above the leaf-littered ground. I dug away most of the decaying vegetation and formed a crude, shallow shelter. I laid the tarp from our backpack on the ground so at least we wouldn't have to sit directly on the dirt.

Sam didn't complain about the night's lodgings. He just flopped down on the ground with a tired sigh. I grabbed the black blanket from the pack and wrapped it around my brother.

I sat and Sam snuggled against me, rummaging around in the backpack for the water bottle and some food.

We ate a meager meal of apples and jerk beef, washed down with sips of water. Although it wasn't as extravagant as the dishes we had eaten in the Capitol, it was above par with most food in Twelve.

As it grew steadily darker it also grew colder. Sam and I huddled together for warmth.

I thought about how great a fire would be but knew that we couldn't have one. If there were other Tributes around, they would see the glow through the spindly trees and attack.

I rubbed Sam's arms, trying to use the friction to keep him warm. I didn't care much for myself. I would be fine. I was worried Sam would get sick if he grew too cold.

I leaned back against the fallen tree trunk and closed my eyes, hoping that sleeping would prevent me from feeling too chilly.

"Dean," Sam's whispered voice had my eyes open in a second, "What is it, Sammy?"

"Look," he pointed out ahead of us and a bit off to our left. I followed his finger and saw a faint orange glow.

"Do you think one of the others is making a fire?" Sam asked, face upturned to peer at me.

"Yeah," I said and wrapped an arm around my brother's shoulders.

"Don't they know it's dangerous?" He asked nervously.

"I bet they do," I told him, "But it is cold."

"I wish we could warn them," Sam said sadly.

I startled when the seal suddenly appeared in the sky and the anthem blared.

Helix's face appeared first and I felt a surge of furious satisfaction at the sight. Carey was next and I couldn't help but feel sad for the boy from District Four. He had helped us escape from Vanity and had died for it.

Surprisingly I didn't see the brown-haired girl's picture. She must not have been as badly injured by Carey's star-blade as I had thought.

Once the anthem played again and the seal disappeared, Sam and I relaxed, my eyes naturally drawn to that small bright spot of flame like a beacon.

W

"Dean!" Sam's urgent voice and tight grip on my arm woke me up hours later.

"What?" I asked stupidly, blinking in the darkness.

"Listen," Sam whispered and I stopped talking.

There was a distant sound of voices and footfalls. Whoever was approaching made no effort to be silent about their advance.

"We'll be okay," I assured my brother and reached out almost blindly for a handful of leaves I had moved out of the way. Working quickly and in near-silence, Sam and I piled the damp, decaying leaf-litter in front of our shelter, hopefully hiding it from prying eyes. I laid down on the tarp and Sam followed suit, curling up against me.

We listened in bated breath but the others never even came close to us. Instead, drawn by the firelight, they converged on the poor Tribute there.

Even far away Sam and I could hear muffled voices and the sounds of a struggle- with no insects or night animals, no wind, the woods was as silent as a collapsed mine shaft.

Sam clapped his hands over his ears when a single, female voice called out before it was cut off mid-cry.

Minutes later the familiar canon blast sounded and I knew that the girl who had foolishly started the fire was gone.

There was nothing we could do so I hugged Sam to my side and lay awake- alert- while my sibling quickly fell asleep.

W

As the sky was turning a dreary grey- promising rain- Sam and I woke up and began packing.

Once the tarp was folded and stuffed back in the pack, I kicked leaves over our hiding spot, trying my best to conceal the fact that we had been there.

"Are we going back into the town, Dean?" Sam asked quietly but I shook my head, "Not right now, Sammy."

I wasn't sure how many of our fellow Tributes were in these woods but I was willing to take my chances.

My brother nodded, hitched the backpack up his shoulders and followed me as I began to trudge through the undergrowth.

W

It began raining not long after we started walking. Not just a damp drizzle but large, fat, cold drops of rain.

Sam ducked his head; his sopping bangs covering his eyes. I wiped rainwater from my face and sighed.

"C'mon Sammy," I said, "Let's try and find somewhere to hide in town."

My brother nodded, his steps more eager as we turned and began walking in the direction of what I hoped was the town. I didn't know how big this Arena was but I knew that if we started to approach its edges, the Gamemakers would prevent us from reaching them. In the 74th Games, Katniss Everdeen had forced the Gamemakers to trigger a forest fire that nearly ended her life when she'd unknowing moved too close to the border. Sam and I wouldn't be able to see the Arena's edges, they formed of invisible force-field but everyone at home in Twelve could see the map of the area with the Tributes marked on it, courtesy of the tracking chips in their arms. I just prayed that we wouldn't get lost in the woods, afraid of what might be waiting for us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from a Creedance Clearwater Revival song.


	11. Babes In The Woods

"Are we lost, Dean?" Sam asked, brushing his wet bangs back from his forehead.

"No," I replied instantly, peering suspiciously through the skeletal trees, seeing no sign of the abandoned town.

"I think we're walking in circles," Sam told me, "That trees looks awfully familiar."

I glanced at the specimen Sam indicated and saw a young birch split in half by what had likely been a lightning strike. The tree was now dead; its leaves curled and brown, rattling in the rain.

"I don't think so," I commented but I felt that strange sense that I had seen that tree before too.

We walked for a little while longer before Sam froze and refused to move any farther.

"Come on, Sammy," I urged, not really looking at him, squinting through the rain instead to try and catch sight of the dilapidated buildings of the town.

"I'm cold," Sam whined, "And tired."

I peered over my shoulder at him.

"We can't stop," I told him, "We'll be great targets if we do."

"But we're lost and going around and around," Sam lamented.

I sighed and ran a hand through my wet hair.

"What do you suggest we do, then?!" I snapped.

My brother looked down at the squishy ground beneath his feet and then up at the tree he was standing beside.

"We have no idea if we're even walking in the right direction," he muttered, "Because we're on the ground. If we could get high up, though, we might be able to see the town."

I stared at Sam.

Sometimes I forgot he was only twelve years old, he was so smart.

"What do you want to do?" I repeated, now keeping the anger from my voice and sounding curious instead.

"I can climb up one of these trees and find the town," Sam suggested.

I shook my head, "That's way too dangerous."

Sam looked pointedly at me.

"This whole Arena is dangerous."

I sighed, "Are you sure?"

Sam nodded.

"I'm lighter than you."

"Okay, just… be careful."

Sam smiled, showing dimples, "I will be."

He slid the backpack from his shoulders and handed it to me.

"If you feel scared or in danger, come down," I told him.

Sam nodded and looked up the tree.

Although it was fairly thin, it was sure to hold his weight. There were some low branches that would make excellent hand- and foot-holds.

"Do you need help?" I asked but Sam shook his head.

Reaching up on the tips of his toes, Sam stretched and grabbed onto one of the lower branches. He hung there for a moment as though trying to decide how he should proceed before he planted his feet against the tree trunk and walked the lower half of his body towards the branch he held.

Once he was in the proper position- almost horizontal- Sam wrapped his legs around the branch and waved at me.

"See, this is easy," he said and I couldn't help but smile back.

Although the bark was slippery, Sam managed to pull himself upright and stood on the branch, reaching up for the one above it.

As Sam climbed slowly up the tree, I gazed around warily. The rain made everything black and white and grey. The falling drops made it difficult to discern movement in the forest.

With our black jackets, another Tribute could easily sneak up on us and Sam and I wouldn't know until it was too late.

I glanced up and saw that my brother was nearly at the top. I prayed that the town wasn't too far from where we were and that we'd get to it without meeting anyone else on the way.

"Dean!" Sam's voice drifted down excitedly.

"Do you see the town?" I asked, trying to keep my voice from traveling too far.

"Yeah," Sam replied, "We have to go that way."

Sam lifted a hand and pointed in the opposite direction of where we had been heading.

Of course.

"Great," I told him, "Now come down."

As I watched, a gust of wind pushed on the tree, causing its thinner top branches to shake violently.

"Be careful!" I cried nervously.

If Sam felt from that height he'd likely break his spine or crack his head open.

Sam nodded and I caught a glimpse of a look of concentration on his face before he began to climb down.

"C'mon," I muttered, "C'mon Sammy, easy does it."

The descent was much slower than the climb up the tree. As Sam drew closer I could see his knuckles were white where he was gripping the slippery bark.

"You're almost there!" I told him encouragingly.

A loud snapping sound from behind startled me and I turned to face the potential threat.

I heard Sam give a short cry and there was a thud as he hit the ground.

"Sam!" I shouted and moved forward, ignoring whatever had made the sound.

My brother lay crumpled at the base of the tree, his wet hair plastered to his face.

"Sammy? Sam?" I crouched down and put a hand on the back of my brother's head.

"Hmmm," Sam muttered and opened his eyes halfway.

I pushed my sibling's bangs back and quickly checked for injuries. His head and face were undamaged.

"Can you stand up?" I asked and Sam nodded.

He hissed as he put weight on his right leg but didn't fall.

"Let me look at it," I ordered and Sam sat back down again.

Sam's ankle was bruised and starting to swell. I carefully moved ankle and although it was painful, I didn't think it was broken, only sprained.

"Okay," I sat back and glanced around.

We weren't in any danger for the moment- the cracking sound was probably a tree branch falling- but I didn't want to take any chances and wait around.

We would be safer back in the town. But now with Sam injured it would take an even longer time getting there.

No getting around it though.

I pulled Sam up and placed his right arm across my shoulders.

"Hold your leg up," I told him and we slowly began to move forward.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam muttered tearfully.

"For what?" I asked, concentrating on moving forward.

"I fell," he whispered.

I shook my head, "Not your fault."

Sam lowered his head, "I'm slowing you down."

I stopped walking and looked at my brother. Sam peered up at him cautiously.

"You're not slowing me down," I told him, "We're in this together. Okay? You and me. No matter what happens. I'm not going to leave you. Got it?"

Sam nodded, lower lip trembling.

We didn't talk very much after that, both of us focused on just moving.

I knew that once we had a chance to stop and rest, Sam's leg would heal but right now we were very vulnerable.

I just prayed to Katniss and Peeta that we would be safe.

W

I breathed a sigh of relief once the forest abruptly ended and the worn-down buildings of the town appeared in the clearing.

"How's your leg?" I asked Sam.

My brother shook his head, "S'okay."

"We'll stop soon."

The rain had made the dirt roads of the town into tracks of thick, grey mud and I tried to avoid these as much as possible, preferring the yellow grass instead.

I glanced around for any of the buildings that looked alright to stay in. I guided Sam in the direction of an old home that didn't look too bad. I helped Sam up the rotted wooden steps and shoved the door open with my free hand. Although it smelt of mold and neglect, I decided that it would be safe enough for the night.

I carefully settled Sam into a sitting position on the floor of what must have been the den and crouched beside him. The house wasn't big at all. It had only two floors- the level we were on and the cellar- but I didn't want to go to the lower one in case we needed to make a quick getaway. Sam's leg still hurt but he looked more relaxed now that he was getting a chance to rest.

I unzipped the backpack and pulled out an apple and a piece of jerk meat, handing both to Sam.

"Thanks," he muttered gratefully.

I checked my brother's ankle again and it looked as though some of the swelling had gone down- a good sign- and ate some food myself.

"Where do you think the others are?" Sam asked, glancing out the window at the soggy town.

"I don't know," I answered, "Maybe they're in their own houses. Maybe their in the woods."

"Do you think Vanity is okay?" Sam asked.

I peered at my brother, shocked that he'd be worried about the brunette Career who had killed Carey.

"I don't know, Sammy."

We were silent for a long moment; the only sound was the patter of rain on the roof and our chewing. I took a sip from the bottle of water before handing it to Sam.

"Why don't you lie down and get some sleep?" I suggested, "I'll keep watch."

Sam nodded, "Wake me up in a while so you can rest too. I'll make sure we're safe then."

I smiled as my brother settled down carefully and quickly fell asleep, his breathing slow and even.

Sighing, I pulled my knees up and wrapped my arms around my legs.

I closed my eyes for a long moment, listening to the sounds around me and imagining- just for a moment- that I was back in District Twelve, safe and secure at home with Sammy by my side where everything was familiar and made sense and fear was never this sharp.


	12. Hit And Miss

I startled awake, groggy, confused as to what had woken me up.

Sam stirred beside me, "Dean?"

"Shhh," I hissed and my brother was instantly quiet.

The sound came again, loud against the quiet day and I realized that I recognized it- that I had heard it before- and smiled grimly.

It was an explosion; something I had heard before in District Twelve when a mineshaft collapsed or the workers were using dynamite to create a new tunnel.

The landmines were being detonated!

"Sammy!" I hissed, grabbing my brother's arms, "Sammy, your idea worked! The apples tempted one of the other Tributes and they stepped on a mine!"

My brother, however, didn't share my enthusiasm and perhaps I was wrong to be so excited about the death of yet another young person- someone my own age, maybe- but I couldn't help it. Every time that cannon sounded, it announced one less threat I had to worry about protecting my brother from.

Sam and I listened for the cannon and heard two blasts.

"I wonder who it was," Sam muttered sadly.

"We'll know tonight," I told him, soberly now.

"How's your leg feel?" I asked, changing the subject.

Sam peered down and turned his ankle in a circle, "Better."

"Good," I praised, "You hungry?"

Sam shook his head.

"We should probably find a new place to hide," I suggested, "We don't want to stay here too long."

Sam nodded and stood, helping me pack up the blanket.

"Let me carry the backpack for a while," I offered and Sam handed it to me.

I slipped the strap of the bag over my shoulder and we both quietly crept forward towards the door. I opened it a couple of inches and peered out. There was no one, not even a groosling in sight.

"Okay," I reached out and put a hand on Sam's shoulder, "C'mon, quick."

I stepped out first, keeping Sam at my side, and glanced around. We would need more water again soon but I didn't want to go to the well so soon after the land mines had exploded- the others might come to investigate- so instead we headed in the opposite direction.

W

The sun was shining and it dried the muddy roads up into frozen dirty waves perfect for tripping over. I had to grab Sam twice to keep him from pitching forwards before deciding we'd do better walking on the grass.

Sam and I were creeping between two dilapidated houses- their roofs fallen in providing no shelter for Tributes- when the sound of footsteps behind us made my brother and I turn and come face-to-face with Vanity.

The girl's eyes were pitch black, the wound from Carey's attack was crusted with dried blood and she smiled toothily, raising a hand towards us.

"RUN!" I cried and shoved Sam forward, following him as he began sprinting.

I followed Sam breathlessly as he darted in and out from between the crumbling houses, imagining I'd feel my neck snap any second.

Sam dashed out from between two houses and I slid behind the well, hiding. I stopped and concealed myself along the side of the house, waiting for Vanity to follow. I pulled the broken spear from my jacket pocket and waited.

Vanity acted exactly as I'd expected her to. She followed our path and when she was just about to run into the street I stepped out of hiding and thrust the spear blade into her chest.

I grabbed the brown-haired girl's shoulder and sunk the blade in as far as it would go, Vanity grunting in pain.

I felt hot blood gush over my hand but didn't pull away, instead I pulled the blade out and Vanity collapsed against the side of the house, one hand raised to her breast.

I watched, hard-hearted as her eyes turned back to their brown colour before rolling up in their sockets and Vanity dropped like a stone, dead.

"Dean!" Sam cried and came running forward. I turned and looked over my shoulder at my brother, smiling grimly.

I heard a faint whistling sound and Sam suddenly pitched forward, crying out in pain, an arrow protruding from his back.

"SAMMY!" I shouted, heart skipping a beat and charged forward, ignoring the danger.

Sam pulled himself up and tried to reach the arrow with his right hand.

I didn't stop. I needed to get Sam out of harm's way. I reached down and scooped him into my arms as I ran, dashing across the road and into the cluster of houses on the other side of the street.

"Deaaaannn!" Sam cried as we ran, certainly jarred from the less-than-smooth ride but I didn't slow down.

I caught sight of a house that didn't look that bad and kicked in the door, stepping inside and heading towards its lower level.

I pushed open the cellar door and stomped down the rickety wooden stairs, not even trying to be quiet. I looked up and saw that we weren't alone.

Three sets of eyes stared up at us, frightened.

"My brother's hurt," I gasped, trying to catch my breath, "Please. I'm not going to hurt you."

The girl moved first. She stood and pointed to the blanket she'd been sitting on, "Lay him here."

I nodded and settled Sam onto the blanket that had come from one of the backpacks the girl had managed to grab.

"Deaaaan," Sam whimpered and reached up to grab my jacket.

"We have to take his jacket off," the girl, who had waist-length blonde hair and blue eyes, told me.

"I can do it," I said and carefully helped Sammy onto his stomach.

I used the spear blade to cut the jacket and then Sam's shirt away from the wound. The arrow had struck right beneath my brother's shoulder blade and the injury was seeping blood. I knew that I couldn't just pull the arrow out- if it was barbed it would cause more damage if I tried to remove it like that- that the wound would have to be cut wider in order to gain enough room to take the arrowhead out safely.

"It's gonna be okay, Sammy," I murmured and looked to the two boys; one had long, tangled brown hair and looked to be the same age as me, the other one had short, spiking red hair and appeared a few years younger.

"We need to make the wound bigger," I said, "I'm gonna need your help to hold him down."

The boys nodded and crept forward; I handed the spear blade to the girl.

"Sammy," I muttered, "Sammy, hey, It's gonna be okay."

I brushed Sam's bangs away from his brow and he nodded, tears streaking down his face silently.

I reached out and gripped both his hands in mine. The two other boys sat on either side of him, ready to hold him.

"Can you do this?" I asked the girl seriously and she nodded. I know, she could have taken that blade and stabbed Sam in the back with it but somehow I trusted her, I had to.

"Just like cutting open a bag of wheat," she said with dark humour and cautiously set to work.

"Ahhh!" Sam shouted and bucked, trying to escape the pain but I held tight to his hands, the other boys keeping their hands on his lower back.

"Almost there," the girl said through gritted teeth.

Sam panted, sweat pouring down his face, eyes glazed and then it was all over.

The blonde-haired girl held the arrow up triumphantly.

Sam, exhausted, rested his chin against the floor and closed his eyes.

I patted his hand, "You did great, Sammy."

Unfortunately there was nothing to sew the wound closed with so I bandaged it the best I could with strips of cloth torn from Sam's ruined jacket.

"That's not going to heal well," the boy with long brown hair stated matter-of-factly.

I nodded, "Now would be a great time for any Sponsors to come out and help."

All three chuckled bitterly.

"I'm Lily," the girl said and held her hand out, "From District Nine."

I shook her hand and told her my name and Sam's.

The two boys were both from District Six. The boy with long brown hair was named Flash and the boy with red hair was called Boof.

"You can stay here as long as you need to," Flash told me, "We've been hiding together since the beginning."

I nodded.

"How'd you run into Ava?" Boof asked nervously.

"Long story," I muttered, "We were running from Vanity and her arrow just came out of nowhere."

They nodded.

"You should get your hands on some of those too, Dean," Flash commented, "Then you'd really raise Hell."

I smiled sadly.

"I don't have much to offer but we have some apples and jerk meat," I told them, "The apples are starting to go brown but the meat's okay."

We quietly shared a meal; I even managed to rouse Sam long enough to get him to eat a little bit of an apple before he closed his eyes and fell asleep again, his only means of escaping the pain in his shoulder.

"Who do you think is going to win?" Boof asked, picking his teeth with a fingernail.

I shrugged, "Don't we all hope its us but know it'll be a Career?"

The others nodded sadly.

"I'd be great if one of us won," Boof continued, "Just like in the 74th Games."

"Shh!" Lily hissed, "Don't talk about it!"

The boy- only fourteen, I learned- shrugged, "Why not? What is the Capitol going to do to us? We're already playing their sick Games? What more could they do?"

We were quiet for a long moment before I spoke up.

"They could hurt your family," I said quietly, "Take them away, charge them with treason and execute them, or worse, make them Avoxes."

Boof's eyes widened in shock, "I didn't think about that. I've got a baby sister back home… and my Gramps and Gram live with us too."

"Then quit talking about it," Flash said but leaned forward, speaking his next words so softly they were barely audible, "May Katniss and Peeta protect us."

Sam whimpered suddenly and I reached out, brushing my fingers through his hair soothingly.

"You should get some rest, Dean," Lily suggested, "Don't worry, we aren't going to kill you in your sleep. We're not Careers."

I nodded and settled down beside my brother on the blanket, fingers still carding through his hair and closed my eyes.

W

I startled awake when I heard the beginnings of the National Anthem start playing loudly overhead and sat up. Sam opened his eyes and struggled to sit as well. I pulled him up and hugged him to my side. It was now dark in the cellar- I must have been asleep for hours- but I could make out the faint shapes of Lily, Flash and Boof in the gloom.

We all listened until the Anthem died away and then listened as De Soto announced the Tributes we had lost earlier that day.

"Evalia from District Seven, Rain from District Eleven, and Vanity from District One."

Three more gone. That left twelve. Half of the Tributes were already dead. That also left eleven Tributes standing between Sam and victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flash from District Six is based on Ash from 'Supernatural'.


	13. Escape From Reality

Early the next morning, just as the sun was beginning to rise and cast dusty orange rays of light through the smeary windows of the basements cellar, I woke, sweating and rolled onto my side so I could face my brother.

Sam's face was pale in the diffuse light and his bangs stuck to his brow with sweat. His breathing was fast and shallow, his sleep clearly troubled.

"Sammy?" I whispered and he groaned but didn't wake.

"Sam," I said again, louder but careful not to rouse the others.

I reached out and placed a hand on my brother's uninjured shoulder and his eyes opened slowly.

"D'n?"

"Hey Sammy," I murmured and smiled even though that was the last thing I felt like doing.

"How're you feeling?" I asked even I released his shoulder to press my palm against his brow.

I frowned at the warmth of his clammy skin and swore silently; he definitely had a fever.

"Hmm," Sam hummed and closed his eyes again, "S'Dad home?"

I sat up abruptly and lifted my hand of my brother's forehead to shake his shoulder. Sam opened his eyes halfway and I could clearly see that the green irises had darkened and were glassy.

"No, Sammy," I said, "Dad's not home."

"Dean?" a new voice called and I looked over my shoulder to see Lily waking up; "Is Sam alright?"

"No," I answered bluntly, "He has a fever."

The blonde approached and laid a hand against Sam's forehead herself.

"Do you have any water?" Lily asked.

I nodded, "Not much though."

I knew we would need water soon but I was reluctant to go. Ava might still be in the area around the well and I did not want to have an encounter with her.

I rubbed a hand over my face and sighed, glancing down at my sibling. I turned and grabbed our backpack, pulling it towards myself and dug through it before I found our water bottle. I shook the vessel and heard water sloshing around in the bottom.

I sat the bottle down and forced Sam into a sitting position, leaning his back against my chest.

"Too warm, Dee," Sam complained, "Don' want more blankets."

"You need to drink some water," I told him and picked up the bottle, twisting the lid off with one hand.

I lifted the bottle to Sam's lips but he pushed my arm away.

"Sam," I said in the most authoritative tone I could muster, "Drink the water."

"Don' wanna, Dee," Sam argued.

"You have to!" I snapped.

"What's going on?" I heard Boof mutter as my outburst woke him and Flash.

"Sam has a fever," Lily told the boys and Flash swore loudly.

I tried to coax some water into my brother again, lifting the bottle to Sam's lips.

"C'mon Sammy," I whispered, "Just a little bit. For me, okay?"

Sam squirmed against me for a moment before giving in, perhaps too weak to fight, and slurped up some water before spraying it back out, coughing harshly.

I leaned Sam forward, one arm across his chest to keep him from falling, and rubbed his back.

"It's okay, shhh," I murmured, "Breathe, that's it."

I felt Sam start to shake but realized this wasn't a result of inhaling the water; he was crying.

"I want to go home, Dee," Sam whimpered, "I don' wanna be here anymore."

I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling tears well up in my own eyes, I rubbed Sam's back carefully, "I know Sammy, I know."

I met Lily's eyes and saw that hers were also moist. She was most certainly missing her own home in District Nine.

"You are going to get home, Sammy," I whispered in his ear, my voice hitching, "I promise. If it's the last thing I do, I am going to make sure you get back to Twelve."

I shifted but remained seated; I needed to check on the wound in Sam's back.

"Let me help," Lily said and stepped forward but I held a hand out.

"I can do it," I told her.

I saw Lily's lip tremble, "At least let me do something, Dean."

"Yeah, let us help," Boof spoke up.

I ran my free hand through my hair, thinking.

"Do you think you could find some feverfew? It might help bring down Sam's fever."

"Feverfew?" Boof asked, his reddish eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"It's a plant," I said, 'It has white petals around a yellow centre. It looks like a daisy but it's leaves look kind of… feathery. Daisies have rounded leaves. Don't pick daisies, they won't help."

Lily nodded, "I know that plant. We call it 'bachelor's buttons'. It's a weed. We pull it out if we find it growing in the fields."

Both boys from District Six looked confused.

"You didn't read the manual did you? The one all about plants and tubers?"

Flash and Boof shook their heads.

"I kind of skimmed through it," Flash admitted, "I figured I'd be dead before I could get a chance to search for berries or dig for wild potatoes."

I shrugged; he had a point.

I turned to Lily, "Do you think you could find us some feverfew?"

The girl nodded, "I can."

"Just be careful," I told Lily and she smiled, making her way towards the stairs that led to the top of the cellar.

W

While waiting for Lily to return, I checked the bandages on Sam's shoulder and was not pleased with what I saw at all.

The strips of jacket I had used were soaked through with sweat and blood. Carefully peeling them back revealed an angry red wound, its edges bright pink.

Sam whimpered as I carefully touched the skin close to the wound and felt it unnaturally warm.

"I'm gonna wash this out, Sammy," I told him and had Boof and Flash hold onto my brother to keep him still.

I raised the water bottle and slowly poured the liquid into the wound. Sam cried out and struggled to sit up but the two other boys were stronger then him.

I gently patted at the excess water with a strip of cloth torn from Sam's jacket, murmuring to my brother soothingly.

"He needs medicine," Flash whispered to me, "If not, he's going to die."

I glared at the long-haired boy, "I know that."

Flash nodded, "Sorry. I've just seen infection before and it's not pretty. A friend of mine got his hand caught in a piece of machinery we use to build the trains and… well, it didn't take long for infection to kill him."

"I'm sorry about your friend," I told Flash and he shrugged, "It was a long time ago."

I returned my attention to Sam, carefully covering the arrow wound with strips of cloth again and hoping that Lily would return soon.

BOOM!

I looked up at the sound of the cannon and felt Sam flinch.

"You don't think that's for Lily, do you?" Boof said, not asking anyone in particular.

"We'll know in a little bit," Flash muttered.

W

The sound of footsteps set us all on edge as they approached the cellar. The door was opened and I squinted against the light to try and see the intruder.

I relaxed instantly as I recognized Lily's blue eyes and long blonde hair.

"Did you get the feverfew?" I asked and she nodded breathlessly, dropping down onto her knees beside me and opening her hand to reveal a dozen feverfew heads and stems.

I took the plants from her and began pulling their heads off. If we could have had a fire I could have made a tea with them but since it wasn't safe enough, the stems and leaves would have to do. I didn't waste the heads though, once they were separated, I gathered them up and put them in the backpack.

Next I picked out two of the stems, leaves still attached and roused my brother who had fallen into a restless slumber again.

"Here Sammy, chew on these," I said and Sam reached up to take the stems.

"It might taste bad but don't spit it out," I warned him and he nodded tiredly, shoving the plants into his mouth and chewing slowly.

My brother's face scrunched up at the taste of feverfew but he did as I had asked and didn't spit the plants out.

"That should help his fever a bit," I said and looked again at Lily.

"Who was it this time? Do you know?"

"Shimmer from Five," Lily said, "I saw her near the well."

"Was it Ava?" Flash asked.

Lily shrugged, "I don't know. Don't think so. One of the others got her this time. She must have been going for water."

I nodded and lowered my head to look at Sam. I looked up when I felt a hand on my shoulder and saw Flash, "Don't worry. We've got water for a few days yet. We'll share."

"Thanks," I said quietly through a lump in my throat.

W

The rest of the day passed quietly. We ate a meager breakfast of spotty apples and jerk meat, washing it all down with small mouthfuls of water.

Everyone seemed lost in their own thoughts and that suited me fine. We weren't here to chat. We might all have to try and kill one another pretty soon, our temporary truce broken by the need to survive.

I periodically checked Sam's forehead- still hot- and the wound in his back- still weeping blood- and could almost feel my brother's chance at winning this Game grow more and more weak.

"We should try and escape," Lily said suddenly, her eyes shining.

I stared at her, "What are you talking about?"

"No one's ever escaped," Flash said, "You either die in here or you get crowned the Victor. That's the way it's always been."

Lily shook her head, "I know but think about it: this is just one big arena, right?"

We all nodded.

"Well, there has to be an end to it," she continued, "It has to stop somewhere."

"No," I said instantly, "No way!"

"What?" Lily asked, frowning and clearly irritated.

"We can't get too close to the edge," I told her, "Don't you remember what happens every time a Tributes accidently wanders too close to the edge of the Arena?"

I knew from whispers that when Katniss Everdeen had come within only a few miles of the edge, during the infamous 74th Games, the Gamemakers at the time had created a massive forest fire to drive her back towards the centre of the Arena. Other unlucky Tributes had also approached too close to the edge of the Arena over the years, prompting the Gamemakers to send natural disasters of all kinds- from blizzards and mudslides to tornadoes- to shepherd the Tributes in the right direction.

Lily nodded, "That's because they know exactly where we are. It's because of the tracking chips. But… if we didn't have them we could get to the edge without being seen."

Flash frowned, "And the Gamemakers wouldn't notice if a bunch of Tributes suddenly just stopped showing up?"

Lily glowered, "What are they going to do? Come down here and stomp around the forest looking for us?"

"They could send Peacekeepers," Boof told her.

Everyone was quiet for a moment, imagining the ghostly Peacekeepers marching through the abandoned town; guns raised and ready to shoot.

"If you're scared you don't have to go," Lily said, "But Dean… think of Sam. No Sponsor has shown himself yet, and I don't think one will. District Twelve Tributes are always killed off before the end. They never win and this is just one way of making sure of that. But if you could escape with me you could go back to Twelve."

I shook my head, "No, we couldn't do that. They'd find us there and… Twelve could be wiped off the face of Panem… like Thirteen was."

Lily glared at me angrily, "And you come from the same District as Peeta and Katniss! You don't deserve to! You're a coward, Dean Winchester!"

I stood up, hands clenched into fists.

"I am not a coward," I seethed, "Don't you ever call me that!"

"Then fight!" Lily exclaimed, "Do something!"

"I am," I told her, "I am going to make sure Sam wins this, whatever the cost."

Lily scoffed and turned away, "Boof… Flash, will you come with me?"

Both boys shook their heads.

"How would we even get the tracking chips out?" Boof asked and Lily smiled, holding up the arrowhead she had pulled from Sam's back.

"You can't be serious," Flash told her, "You'd die before you managed to dig it out."

Lily though, seemed beyond reasoning. The stress and terror of the Games had finally gotten to her as it inevitably got to at least one Tribute every year.

"If none of you are coming with me," she said, backing away, "I wish you good luck. I'll see you on the other side."

"Don't go!" Boof called as she backed away up the stairs.

Flash reached out and gripped his fellow Tribute's shoulder, "Let her go, Boof."

We all fell silent, wondering what fate was to befall the girl from District Nine.

W

I was unsurprised to hear a cannon shot shatter the quiet in the cellar in the early evening and caught the glances of the two other boys, all of us in silent agreement that it had been for Lily.

I reached down and brushed my brother's bangs away from his face, "Hey, Sammy? How're you feeling?"

"Hmm," he muttered, "Bet'r."

I placed my palm against his brow and was relieved that his fever seemed to have gone down somewhat, but not enough for him to be out of danger just yet.

I pulled out some more feverfew stems and handed them to him, "Try to chew some more of these, Sammy."

I knew a few feverfew stems wasn't enough to break Sam's fever or prevent infection from setting in, but without any Sponsors to send medicine, it was the best I could do for him.

As the light drained rapidly from the sky, the National Anthem began to blare.

I sighed, knowing that once the music was gone, we'd hear two more Tribute's names called out as those among the dead. Just as Lily had suggested, Shimmer's name was announced, along with Lily's own.

We waited for the Anthem to play again to signal the close of the communication with De Soto but were shocked to here the interviewer continue speaking:

"Tributes, tomorrow there will be a Feast at the Cornucopia at dawn. This Feast does not necessarily contain food, but items you all are in need of. Arrive early and gather the spoils. Arrive late and… well, we'll just have to see what happens. May the odds be ever in your favour."

The Anthem rang out finally and everything was silent.

"Dean," Flash said, "You don't think there's going to be medicine there, do you?"

I nodded, "I would bet there is."

Flash swore.

Feasts were almost as dangerous as the first few minutes of the Games; designed to attract all the Tributes to one specific spot, forcing them into confrontations.

"The Capitol must be getting bored with us," I muttered.

"Are you going to go?" Boof asked nervously.

I nodded, "Of course! I have to, Boof, if I don't get that medicine Sam will die."

"It could just be a trick," Flash said slowly but I shook my head, "Feasts are never tricks like that. They always have supplies the Tributes need."

Flash shrugged, "Azazel King said that this Game was going to be different than all the others."

"I've never seen that smoke cloud in any of the other Games chasing down Tributes," I argued, "Or those black eyes."

"True," Flash admitted, "But you never know what those bastards are up to, do you?"

"I think the Capitol would want to see Sammy skewered by another Tribute than waste away from infection," I ground out, as difficult as it was to acknowledge.

Flash nodded, "You're probably right. The Capitol loves action and the gorier the death the better."

"Yeah," I said quietly and ran my hand through Sam's longish hair.

Boof, who had been quiet throughout my argument with Flash spoke up again.

"What if you die?"

I looked over at him, the kid's eyes wide.

"I'm not going to let that happen," I insisted.

"But what if you do?" he continued, "Flash and I… we can't really take care of Sam."

I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. It was true, however kindhearted these two Tributes were, I could not- would not- ask them to care for my brother and never to try and make sure he won.

If anything happened to me at the Feast, the kindest thing they could do was to put Sam out of his misery swiftly before any other Tribute found him.

"What… what do you want to do?" I asked finally.

"I will go and get Sam's medicine," Boof said matter-of-factly.

"I can't ask you to do that," I argued but the fourteen-year old smiled, "You don't have to. I'm going to do it anyway."

"But-" I started but Boof interrupted, "I'd rather die helping another Tribute than fighting one."

I nodded and saw that he had tears in his eyes, "I'd rather go home as a hero than a murderer."

Looking at Flash, I saw the brown-haired boy biting his lip and nodding.

"You just have to do one thing for me, Dean," Boof said.

"What? I promise I'll do it," I said eagerly.

"You have to make sure that it's either you or Sam who wins," he told me, "No one else. As long as it's someone from Twelve, I'll be happy. Show those Capitol pigs we can't be beaten."

I laughed, startled by his treasonous words and nodded.

"I promise," I told him, "But I'm coming with you to the Feast."

This time Boof began to object but I held up a hand, "If anything happens to you on the way to or from the Cornucopia, that medicine still needs to get to Sam. I'll stay hidden and only come out if you're in trouble, deal?"

Boof nodded and shook my hand, "Deal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from a Threat Signal song.


	14. Feast of Fools

I woke before the sun rose and roused Sam, or tried to.

I reached out and touched his uninjured shoulder, quietly calling his name.

Sam's eyes slipped open and I could see that they were glassy and unfocused.

"D'n," he whispered and his eyes slipped closed again.

I moved my hand from his shoulder and set it against his brow, hissing and pulling my fingers back as though I had been burned; I couldn't believe how hot Sam's felt!

"Shit," I swore and decided to check his bandages.

The sight that greeted me caused my heart to skip a beat with fear. The open wound was still wet, leaking clear fluid and yellowish pus- most of which had soaked through the strips of cloth overnight- along with even more blood. The skin around it was an angry red and I could see purplish lines leading away from the wound.

"That's blood poisoning," Flash pointed out sadly from behind me, making me jump.

I swallowed and nodded.

"Sam needs that medicine," he continued, "Desperately."

I looked over my shoulder and saw Boof just starting to wake up. Turning back to Sam, I tore up more strips from his jacket and covered the wound.

"Don't worry, Dean," Flash assured me, "I'll keep him safe until you return."

Boof, now fully awake, ruffled his red hair and spoke up, "What if something happens to you while we're gone and you have to take Sam and leave?"

"Everyone is going to be at the Feast," Flash answered calmly.

Boof shrugged, "You never know."

Flash bit his lip, thinking.

"If we're gone when you get back, I'll mark our direction with an arrow," he said, reaching down to draw an arrow on the dusty floor with one finger, "And mark our trail like that until you find our new hideout."

"Won't other Tributes follow?" I asked, terrified of the idea that Flash and Sam would be attacked.

"Hopefully most of the Tributes kill one another at the Feast," Flash said, "Besides, anyone who does survive probably won't know to look for the arrows."

"Okay," I muttered, still not completely confident but willing to admit that Flash did have a viable point.

I looked at Boof and stretched, "We should start out."

The younger boy nodded and stood.

I paused to brush Sam's damp bangs away from his face and kiss his brow.

"Love you, Sammy," I mumbled, my lips against his hot skin, "I'll be back as soon as I can."

I looked up at Flash, my eyes stinging, "If I don't come back-"

He held up a hand to stop me, "You're coming back, Dean. And with the medicine."

I swallowed and nodded, turning away and following Boof upstairs.

W

"If you can see the others," I whispered to Boof as we crept along the road towards the Cornucopia, "Don't go. Wait until they're distracted."

The boy nodded, "Or dead."

After that we remained silent, not wanting to draw attention to ourselves.

I stopped when I saw the golden gleam of the Cornucopia just past the four-way crossroads and spied a silver table set up at the mouth of the large cone, seven black packages labeled with numbers arranged atop it. On the other side of the table- our side- I could see large craters in the ground from where the landmines had exploded.

I grabbed the back of Boof's jacket and pulled him along the side of one house, waiting. The sun was just beginning to rise, nothing more than an orange glow beyond the skeletal trees in the forest but I wasn't about to stride up towards the table and be killed because I'd acted too brazen.

"What if the others aren't coming?" Boof asked, staring at the small bag at the end with a bright yellow 12 on it. There was a large black box with a number 6 on it as well but I could see the red-haired boy only had eyes for the one that most assuredly had medicine in it.

I said nothing; we had a plan and we were going to follow it.

Just as I expected, the first of our fellow Tributes arrived.

From the direction of the forest, I saw one of the boy's from District Ten approach. He was dark-skinned, with curly black hair and dark brown eyes- common physical features in Ten- and wiry. He moved quickly, stopping ever so often as though to listen for trouble. Boof and I watched the Tribute- his name was Crofton- as he stepped right up to the table and grabbed a package with a yellow number 10 on it. He paused, however, seeming to think and gazed at the other packages arranged on the table.

Moving down the table, Crofton pulled the package meant for Flash and Boof, forwards and opened it. Smiling, he pulled out a large fistful of jerk meat in one hand and a half-dozen fish-shaped biscuits that came from District Four.

I jumped a little as I felt Boof wrap a hand around my arm and squeeze. We watched, shocked, as Crofton stuffed his mouth full of the jerk meat and dropped the biscuits onto the ground before mashing them into the dirt with his shoes.

Please, I thought helplessly, please don't touch Sammy's medicine. Please, for the love of Panem, don't touch it!

I looked up when I heard a faint whistle and saw Crofton fall back with an arrow in his throat. Ava was here. A cannon shot announced the death throughout the Arena.

Boof tugged on my arm but I remained still. I was not going to let him go out there with the girl from District Seven still there; that would be suicide.

I watched silently as the girl strolled up to the table. She was a tiny little thing, about the same height as Sam, with dark brown hair that stopped just past her earlobes. She had a quiver of arrows strapped to her back and a bow in one hand. We watched as she casually picked up her package before walking back into the town not far from where Boof and I were hiding.

"Now?" Boof asked. The sun was now a red crescent beyond the black trees but I shook my head.

I was glad I hadn't let Boof go because seconds later, I saw Andrew from District Two- Career and brother to a Peacekeeper- approach the table next.

I saw that, unlike Crofton, Andrew had a weapon, a deadly-looking flail, hung by his side.

He smirked at the sight of Crofton's dead body and stepped around it to get to his package. Andrew reached down but then staggered back, an arrow protruding from his chest. He grabbed the arrow and pulled, ripping it out.

Andrew slumped slightly before straightening and glanced around, only to stumble again as another arrow hit him. The Career fell back, landing heavily on the ground on his backside and I could see him trying to pull the second arrow out, but to no avail. His motions grew weaker before he fell onto his back and lay still. Cannon fire confirmed his death.

It seemed as though Ava had decided to stay hidden and pick off the other Tributes as they came to the Feast.

I was surprised when yet another Tribute approached the table. This time I recognized Crofton's partner, Talley, and held my breath, waiting for the inevitable.

Talley, with similar physical features as Crofton, stepped slowly towards the table, his eyes widening in shock as he caught sight of the two bodies. Unlike Crofton who had been wiry, Talley was broad-shouldered and muscular; very intimidating.

The remaining Tribute from Ten looked up, eyes narrowed in the direction of the town. He pulled a wicked-looking knife from his jacket and began trotting towards Boof and I, murder in his eyes.

I grabbed Boof, pressing him close to the side of the house with one hand over his mouth.

Talley ran right past us without stopping, heading deeper into the abandoned town. I didn't relax until I was certain he wasn't returning.

Boof stared at me, his eyes wide as saucers.

"He's after Ava," I whispered, barely audible.

The red-haired boy nodded.

"Go!" I urged, "Now, while they're both distracted!"

We still hadn't seen Glamour or Max- from District Eight- but I realized we couldn't wait much longer. And with Ava distracted, it was our best chance of getting Sam's medicine.

I watched with bated breath as Boof approached the table. He didn't walk; instead, he crawled, his body pressed low to the ground to make himself less of a target.

I smiled when I saw Boof reached up and nudge the package for Sam closer and closer to the edge of the table so that he wouldn't have to stand up.

Thank Katniss, I thought, he's gonna make it.

I had spoken too soon, however. With a faint, familiar whistle, an arrow embedded itself in Boof's back.

I almost called out his name in shock but bit my tongue, drawing blood, to keep silent.

The boy grunted and dropped down, the package falling beside him.

For a long moment he didn't move and I was afraid he had died but then slowly, painfully, Boof reached out and tucked the package against his elbow, lifting his arm to cradle it against his chest and began to crawl back towards me.

"C'mon, C'mon," I whispered, tears stinging my eyes.

I jumped, startled, when a female cry sounded out before being cut off suddenly from somewhere behind me.

I ignored the sound, however, eyes glued to Boof.

Within moment I realized that he was not going to make it back and so I rushed forward, not even bothering to try and crouch to make myself smaller, landing on my hands and knees beside Boof.

"I… I got it… Dean," the fourteen-year old said, smiling up at me, blood on his lips.

I nodded, "Yeah, you did. You did great."

He lowered his head for a moment before lifting it again.

"Sam… Sam'll be okay," he told me.

I sucked in a shaky breath, feeling tears slip down my cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," I apologized, "I shouldn't have let you do this."

"Don't… say that…" Boof said, "Wanted… to…"

I nodded and reached out, lying a hand gently on his shoulder for a moment, "Your family is going to be so proud of you. Your whole District will be."

Boof smiled, chuckling for a second before groaning in pain.

"Maybe… maybe I can help," I said, thinking that if he wasn't dead now he could still be saved, "I can carry you back with me and use some of the medicine-"

Boof's cold hand on my wrist stopped me, "No… I'm not g-gonna make it…"

He closed his eyes and rested his chin against the dirt of the road.

"Boof?" I asked, "Boof!"

His eyes opened slightly, "G-Go… b-b-back to Sam… 'fore A-Ava n' Talley find y-you."

Boof's eyes slipped closed for the last time and he let out a drawn out breath, his chest failing to rise again.

The cannon shot made me flinch but I didn't leave him for another moment. I wiped at my face and then at my nose that had begun to drip.

"I'm so sorry," I muttered, "I'm so, so sorry."

I reached out and put a hand on his head, "May Katniss and Peeta watch over you."

Carefully I took the package out from Boof's arms and headed back towards the town, walking slowly, laden with grief.

W

I wasn't watching where I was walking and pitched forward, landing heavily on my hands and knees, the package flying from my grasp.

I looked over my shoulder and gasped. I had tripped over an outstretched leg. I crawled forward and grabbed the package again, hugging it to my chest and inched closer to the body.

It was Ava.

Her eyes were open, the white's turning red with broken blood vessels, her neck blue with recent bruises.

Talley had found her, I realized, and strangled her.

I saw that she was still holding onto the bow and that her quiver of arrows was still across her back.

I was going to need a better weapon then the broken spearhead I had been using.

Without thinking about what I was doing, I pried the bow from Ava's fingers, setting it aside, and then rolled her over onto her belly so that I could slip the quiver off easier.

Sliding the pilfered quiver over my own shoulder and gripping the bow in one hand- package in the other- I continued on towards the house where Sam and Flash were still hiding.

W

"Dean!" Flash greeted, "I heard all those cannon shots and thought we'd lost you!"

I shook my head, "Did you have any trouble?"

Flash repeated my gesture, "You were right. It seemed like everyone was at the Feast."

I nodded, "Well, almost everyone."

My fellow Tribute looked at me curiously and I told him I hadn't seen either Glamour or Max.

"Maybe they were waiting for everyone to kill each other," Flash said, "Speaking of… Boof-"

I shook my head, "He didn't make it."

He nodded, smiling sadly, "Damn."

"How's Sam?" I asked, trying to change the subject back to the living.

"Didn't wake up at all," Flash told me.

I nodded once and opened the package. Inside was a small glass vial with a clear yellow liquid inside, a metal canister with thick white salve and a length of catgut and a needle. There were no bandages or gauze but that was alright, Sam needed medicine more than he needed the dressings.

Without bothering to wake my brother, I pulled the strips of jacket from his back and grimaced at the wound.

"I'm going to need to clean that out before I do anything else," I told Flash and he handed me a water bottle.

Carefully, I poured a small amount- a teaspoon's worth- of water onto the wound. Sam groaned in pain, his eyes opening slightly.

"Shhh," I murmured, "It's okay, Sammy."

After making sure the wound was as clean as possible and patting it dry carefully, I twisted the lid off the metal canister and scooped up a large glob of the sticky salve with two fingers.

With extreme care, I dabbed the salve into the open wound in Sam's back, smoothing it over the edges of the torn skin as well.

I wiped my hands clean and then took up the needle and suture. I was secretly glad that my brother was so ill and remained unconscious as I sewed the wound in his back closed before applying yet more salve onto it, covering the fresh stitches with pieces of his torn jacket.

I looked at the vial of liquid and decided that it would have to wait until later, when Sam was awake enough to drink it safely.

I sat, exhausted and glanced at Flash, his mouth hanging open.

"What?" I asked.

"How did you know how to do that without a note or anything?" he asked, stunned.

I shrugged, "When Sam and I were little, there was a fire in the Seam."

Flash nodded; he'd heard me talk of that during my interview with Archimedes de Soto.

"And we were all forced to live in this old warehouse," I continued, "Hundreds of us, cramped together... anyway, there's this one lady- a healer- named Missouri Mosley, who took care of anyone who was sick or hurt. I had a chance to watch her a lot since only men eighteen and older are allowed to work in the mines and that forced our father to leave Sam and I alone for most of the day."

"That was amazing," Flash said and I ducked my head, embarrassed.

"I'm not as good as Missouri," I admitted, "I just hope it isn't too little too late."

Flash reached out and squeezed my shoulder, "I'm sure you did a great job."

I nodded and leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes, too tired to think of anything else but sleep.

W

"Dean! Dean!"

"Sammy?" I asked as someone shook me awake, calling my name.

"D'n?"

I opened my eyes and saw Flash's face inches from my own, his hands on my shoulders. He had been calling my name.

"What's wrong?" I asked and sat up instantly.

"Sam's awake," Flash answered, smiling.

I pushed the other boy to one side and stared at my baby brother. Sam, still lying on his back, was looking at me, his face still flushed but his eyes clearer.

"D'n," he whimpered.

I moved forward and put a hand to his brow, "Hey, Sammy."

His brow still seemed very warm and I swore silently.

"You think you can sit up?" I asked and Sam nodded.

Carefully, putting my hands underneath his armpits, I pulled my brother into a sitting position before wrapping one arm around his middle, his back facing my chest.

"Flash, can you get that vial?" I asked and the other boy nodded, grabbing it and handing it to me.

"You've gotta drink some of this, Sammy," I said as I carefully pulled off the lid, "It'll help."

Sam squirmed, whimpering in pain, but I persisted.

"Just little sips," I told him and brought the vial to his mouth.

"Lemme," Sam muttered and reached up to put one clammy hand over mine.

"Careful," I cautioned, "Slowly."

Tipping the vial back, Sam took two sips of the liquid, coughed but managed to keep from spitting it out.

Sam shuddered, "Tastes like water from a old work boot that's been rotting in the Heap."

I chuckled, happy that Sam was quickly becoming more coherent and focused.

"Do you think you can eat anything?" I asked but Sam shook his head, "Can I sleep?"

"Sure," I muttered and gently helped him lay back down on his stomach.

I put the lid back on the vial and set it aside. I rubbed a hand over my eyes and only then realized how gloomy it had become in the cellar.

Looking up, I saw that the sun had almost disappeared behind the horizon.

"You let me sleep all day?!" I exclaimed, staring at Flash.

"You looked like you needed the rest as much as Sam did, amigo," he said, "Don't worry, I stayed awake."

"Why don't you get some sleep?" I suggested, "I'll stay up."

Flash nodded and moved over to where he had set his blanket out, laying on his side, back facing me.

I pressed my back against the wall of the cellar and waited for the Anthem to begin.

The Tributes who had been killed today were named- Crofton from District Ten, Andrew from District Two, Ava from District Seven and finally, Boof from District Six- which left just six in total, including Sam and I.

I fiddled anxiously with the arrows in the quiver I had stolen from Ava, taking them out, testing their sharpness against my finger, then replacing them.

I glanced over at Flash's sleeping form and sighed, wondering how much longer he had in these Games. I decided that I was not going to be the one to kill him; I would not do something so slimy. The others might form alliances and them stab their partners in the back but I was not going to stoop to that level. If that meant that Flash had to kill me, then so be it, but I was not going to murder a friend. As long as Sammy won, I didn't care what happened.

I listened as the crickets began to chirrup and caught the sound of a groosling clucking outside the window, searching for insects in the tall grass.

Standing, I spied the fat bird standing in front of the window and poised an arrow in the bow, directing it to fly through one of the broken panes.

I released the arrow and heard a dull thud as it met its target. Smiling, I crept up the stairs and outside. The night was cool and clear, the stars spattered against the dark sky like a million tiny fires.

I found the groosling, my arrow in its chest, and returned to the cellar.

I looked up to see Flash looking at me.

"We've got some more meat for a few days," I said, holding the bird up by its scaly, yellow legs.

The other boy nodded and rolled over without saying anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who may not know, a flail is a Medieval weapon, similar to a mace, which is a spiked ball atop a wooden handle, kind of like a club. What makes a flail different though, is that the ball does not sit directly on top of the wooden handle, instead it is attached to a chain, which allows the user to swing it around and gain more momentum for maximum damage. Flails were actually a created based on the agricultural tool of the same name used for threshing.  
> Talley from District Ten is based on Jake Talley, one of Azazel's 'special children' who appears in the 'Supernatural' episodes "All Hell Breaks Loose: Part One" and "All Hell Breaks Loose: Part Two".   
> Max from District Eight is based on Max Miller in the 'Supernatural' episode "Nightmare".


	15. Killing Time

We all knew that with so few Tributes left standing that the Gamemakers weren't going to let this draw out much longer.

Sam, Flash and I remained hidden in the cellar while my brother's injury healed. The morning after Boof and I had gone to the Feast, Sam's fever had all but broken as a result of the medicine I had given him and he was strong enough to sit up and eat some of the groosling that I had shot.

"Dean!"

Flash's voice startled me and I looked up to where he was standing by the window, gazing out at the streets of the abandoned town.

"What's wrong?" I asked and left Sam's side, fearful.

"Look," Flash pointed and I saw thick, white fog rolling towards our house, laying low to the ground.

"That's not good," I muttered and glanced over my shoulder at Sam who was slowly chewing on a strip of raw groosling meat- we still didn't think we were safe enough to light any fires just yet- anxiously.

"I think we should high tail it out of here, amigo," Flash said humorlessly.

I looked at him, "And go where?"

He shrugged, "I don't know, but I don't think we should stay here."

I scratched the back of my head and sighed, unsure of what to do.

"Alright," I acquiesced, "We've been here too long anyway."

Flash nodded and went to pack his bag. I returned to Sam's side and quickly explained what we were doing and why.

"What if it's a trick?" Sam asked quietly, eyes large and round, "What if the Gamemakers want us to go outside?"

I smiled, "We're too smart to get tricked by some dusty old men, aren't we, Sammy?"

My brother nodded though he looked skeptical but he helped me stuff our backpack.

"How's your shoulder feel?" I asked as I slipped Ava's quiver of arrows over my own shoulder, bow in hand.

Sam shrugged and smiled bravely, "It doesn't hurt that much."

I reached out and laid a reassuring hand on his uninjured shoulder and turned to Flash, "You ready?"

The Tribute from District Six nodded, "Lead on."

W

We crept as quietly as possible up the rotting wooden steps that led to the main floor of the house. We had no idea where the other three Tributes were and didn't want to inadvertently announce our presence to them should anyone be outside, cloaked by the fog.

I jumped a little when I felt Sam's small hand slip into my free one and squeeze.

I returned the gesture, nervous myself.

Peering behind me I smiled when I saw Sam reach our for Flash's hand.

We made our way across the main floor, towards the front door and I had to let go of Sam's hand for a moment to open it.

Thick white fog coated the ground outside like a blanket, obscuring the town. I grabbed Sammy's hand in my own again and stepped outside, squinting in against the fog to try and see.

"Stay close," I muttered and began walking down what I hoped was the dirt road towards the well.

I didn't know where we were headed or when we were going to stop but while the fog remained, we seemed safe enough, wreathed in the mist and thus hidden from the others.

We hadn't walked far when I heard a strange growling sound coming from behind.

"Uh… Dean, was that your stomach?" Flash asked with an anxious chuckle.

"No," I replied.

There was a beat of silence before the growl sounded again and Sam was shoved into me, Flash pushing him forward, "RUN!"

I sprinted forwards, gripping my brother's hand tight enough to hurt but I didn't care, I just wanted to get him out of danger's way.

"Dean!" I heard Flash shout from behind us and a dull thud as he hit the ground.

"Ahhh!" I heard the boy cry in pain but didn't stop, couldn't stop, even if I wanted to and just continued to run as far away from him as I could, Sam's hand crushed in my own. The sound of a cannon sounded from overhead and I knew that Flash was gone.

W

Sam and I stopped running, panting and terrified, no idea of where we were.

My brother grabbed me tightly, hugging me.

"Dean, I'm scared," he muttered, face pressed against my shirt.

"I know, Sammy," I murmured, one hand carding through his hair, trying to comfort, "Me too."

We remained still for a long moment, embracing one another before I pulled away.

"We should keep moving, Sammy," I told him.

Sam, sniffling, nodded and grabbed my hand again, reminding me once again that he was only twelve years old.

I stared down at my feet, barely able to see the dirt road beneath them. I moved slowly, cautiously, to avoid colliding with any obstacles in our path.

It was eerie in the fog. It's greyish-white mist blanketed everything: the houses, the trees, even my own hand if I held it out at arm's length. It was also disturbingly quiet. Even though the abandoned town hadn't been a cacophony of sound before, the fog seemed to press in on my ears and muffled our footfalls. It felt as though we were moving in circles but I hoped we weren't; I didn't know what we'd do if we ended up at the house we'd taken refuge in again.

Maybe the fog will lift, I thought, once the Gamemakers have had enough of it.

The sound of footsteps close by set me on edge and I froze. Sam's fingers tightened around my hand painfully but I didn't react. I tilted my head towards the sound, trying to hear more clearly.

The sound repeated, seeming to come closer. I held my breath and waited. With Sam's hand holding one of mine I couldn't use the bow. I had to just wait to see if whomever the footsteps belonged to left or not.

A growl sounded and I heard Sam whimper. I didn't wait. Tugging my brother along, I dashed forward, hoping to outrun whatever was making that noise.

"Dean!" Sam cried as we ran, "Dean!"

"Keep going!" I shouted back, "You can do it! You have to do it!"

I didn't stop even when I failed to hear either snarling or footsteps pursuing us, I didn't want to take the chance that if we did, whatever was following would find us once we were still.

Once again, Sam and I were both gasping, trembling when we stumbled to a halt, exhausted.

I knew that if the monster found us now we wouldn't be able to run away again. We had to find somewhere to hide.

"C-C'mon, Sammy," I stammered, panting, and grabbed Sam's hand in my own, dragging him forward.

My brother was quiet but followed me without protest and I knew that he would not be able to run again.

I didn't know how long we walked for- it felt like hours- when finally Sam couldn't go any further and slumped to the ground.

"Sam!" I exclaimed and pressed my palm to his brow, feeling his skin hot and clammy beneath my hand.

"Shit," I swore; his fever had returned.

Placing the bow into the quiver I had slung over my shoulder, I bent down and picked Sam up like he was a baby and started walking again, slowly.

"D'n," Sam muttered but I shushed him.

He needed to save his strength and so did I.

I glanced up, squinting and noticed that I could make out the ghostly shapes of the houses that surrounded us through the fog. The mist was finally clearing.

I looked down concernedly when I felt my brother grab my shirt and he leaned his head tiredly against my chest.

"I'll find us a place to stay, Sammy," I assured him, "Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to you."

W

As the fog dissipated and it became easier to see, I started walking faster, desperate to find a place to hide.

I stumbled, nearly dropping my brother as I was hit from behind and felt the sharp blade of a sword press against my back. I let Sam fall to the ground- an unavoidable action- and turned to face the threat, pulling the bow and an arrow from the quiver quickly.

The boy from District Eight stood before me, panting, holding a sword out. He had short blond hair and blue eyes; his face was red, a telltale sign that he had been running recently.

He roared and slashed at me with the weapon. I retreated- tripping over my brother as I did so to land on my backside as I did so - and released the arrow.

The boy from Eight, stopped abruptly, my arrow embedded in his eye socket and pitched forward, dead.

As the cannon sounded I gathered my brother up and ran forward, now terrified that Talley and Glamour were nearby. I had dumped almost all of the arrows from the quiver when I'd fallen but didn't stop to try and pick them up, there wasn't time.

"D'n," Sam whimpered and trembled in my arms.

I glanced around, seeking out a building that we could hide in and dashed into a house with a collapsed roof. I had to duck down low to avoid hitting my head but didn't care, this would do for now.

I moved as far away from the nonexistent front door as was possible before settling Sam down and taking a seat beside him. I pulled down some of the roof's thatching and mossy wooden shingles to help hide us from prying eyes and turned to my brother in the dim light.

Pressing my hand to Sam's forehead, I frowned when I noticed that his fever seemed to be spiking.

"Oh Sammy," I muttered and shrugged the quiver off my shoulder so I could get to the backpack, taking it off and rummaging through it before I found what I was looking for his medicine.

My fingers brushed the cool glass vial and I grabbed it, taking out the cork and carefully holding it out to Sam with one hand while I helped him sit up with the other.

Sam sipped at the offered curative before coughing, spraying most of it out onto the front of his shirt.

"S-Sorry, D'n," he muttered and sighed.

"Try again," I urged and he just looked at me, kicked puppy expression on his face.

I frowned when I shifted my hand on his back and felt dampness on his shirt. Setting the medicine aside for the moment I pulled Sam's shirt up to reveal the area around the arrow wound darkened with blood. He had ripped some of the stitches out while we were running.

I closed my eyes for a moment before opening them again.

"I have to fix your stitches, Sammy," I told him and he groaned.

"I know," I murmured sympathetically, "But this can't wait."

I helped Sam lie down on his stomach and found the salve, catgut thread and needle that had been left for us at the Feast. After removing the bloodied bandages and cleaning the wound with some water I carefully- as a result of the grey light- I threaded the catgut through the needle and as gently as possible, repaired the broken stitches.

Sam whimpered as I worked, flinching in pain every so often but he did not complain. He sighed as I smeared the thick salve on the wound again and covered it with torn bits of his jacket.

Helping him sit up, I brushed his bangs away from his eyes.

"Why don't you try some of the medicine again?" I asked.

"Can't," Sam whined and stared pleadingly at me.

"Just a little," I insisted, "Please."

Resignedly, Sam allowed me to tip the vial against his mouth, sipping the liquid medication cautiously.

Covering his mouth as he coughed, Sam closed his eyes and groaned but swallowed.

"Think you can eat something?" I asked, "Maybe some groosling?"

Sam shook his head, "Just wanna sleep, D'n."

I nodded, "Okay, maybe later."

I helped Sam down again and within moments he was deep in an exhausted slumber.

Sleep though, wasn't a luxury I could afford and so I sat up, ears keen for the sounds of approaching footsteps and prayed to Katniss and Peeta that we would make it through this.

W

I barely even flinched when the National Anthem blared out from the night sky and Archimedes de Soto's voice boomed loud and clear.

Sam and I had been in our new hiding place the entire day. I guessed that the fog must have vanished completely but I was too nervous to look. Instead I remained seated, listening and watching over my ailing brother.

I hardly noticed when night fell, casting our already dimly lit refuge into complete darkness.

After the anthem finished I knew that two more pictures would be projected into the sky- Flash's and the boy from District Eight's- leaving only myself, Sam, Talley and Glamour in the Arena.

I counted the arrows that remained- three- over and over again even though I knew the number wouldn't change. I had just enough for the other two Tributes if I didn't waste them.

I didn't know what would happen if I killed both Talley and Glamour, leaving only Sam and I alive. There could only be one Victor and I was sure the Gamemakers would not allow a repeat of the 74th Games.

Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair, "I guess we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

W

I startled awake at the sound of my brother whimpering in his sleep. Sitting up, I swore quietly and turned to Sam.

His brow was beaded with sweat and his face was pale.

"Sammy," I reached out and touched his uninjured shoulder, "Hey, Sammy, wake up."

Slowly, his green eyes opened and he let out a sob.

"Sammy," I murmured and helped him sit up, bringing him forward until he sat with his back against my chest, "I'm right here."

My reassurances didn't help. Sam's whimpering turned to crying and I could feel him shaking against my chest.

"I just want to go home, Dean. I don't want to be here anymore."

Sighing, I carded my hand through his longish hair, "I know, Sammy, I know. It'll be over soon and you'll be back home in Twelve with Dad."

My brother shook his head, "No! I want to be with you! I don't want you to die!"

I bit my lip as my eyes burned with tears, I didn't know what to say.

Bending my neck so that my mouth was right beside Sam's ear, I whispered, "I'll always be with you, Sammy. No matter what. Nothing and no one can take me away from you. I'll always watch out for you, just like Katniss and Peeta watch out for all of us in Twelve."

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed and twisted his body around so that he could wrap his arms around me, hugging me tightly.

W

Some time later Sam and I crept from our hiding place. We had both decided that we didn't want to draw this out any longer. If we were going to finish the Games we were going to do so on our own terms, meeting our enemies head-to-head and not hole up any longer.

Sam had his slingshot ready, a handful of good-sized rocks in his pocket, ready for when the attack came.

He was still feverish and that worried me greatly but I knew that if we didn't move soon, the Gamemakers would send out a new threat to chase us from our hiding spot.

The fog had cleared completely through the night and now the town looked just as it had when we'd first arrived: grey and sad and empty.

I had no idea where Talley or Glamour were and that made me anxious, they could be in the woods or watching from the window of one of the houses in town.

"Dean," Sam whispered and I bent down, "What is it Sammy?"

He looked up at me, his eyes glassy and bright.

"I think maybe we should have a fire now."

I frowned; Sam's fever was getting the better of him. He saw my expression and stood up on his toes, whispering.

"I think we need a fire."

I shook my head, "Sam, we can't. If we make a fire Talley and Glamour will… see…"

I paused, mouth open.

"Sam!" I exclaimed, hugging him, "You're brilliant!"

Deciding that the best spot to have our fire was close to the Cornucopia- it had the clearest view of the town and forest- Sam and I started heading in that direction.

My heart was pounding in my chest and my palms were slick with sweat but I felt oddly exhilarated.

I started walking faster as I saw the golden glow of the Cornucopia in the meager sunlight that slanted through the clouds.

Once at the golden horn, I made Sam stay in its mouth while I went to gather kindling. I would have taken Sam with me, to protect him, but I could see that even the short walk was exhausting for him. I made sure he had his slingshot at hand and also gave him the broken spear tip that I had kept, just in case.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," I promised him and took off at a jog towards the edge of the forest.

I searched as quickly as I could, grabbing any twigs and sticks I could get my hands on before running back to my brother.

He leaned against the side of the Cornucopia, eyes half-closed and startled when I fell to my knees beside him, dumping an armload of kindling onto the ground.

Before even starting the fire, I shrugged the backpack off my shoulder, found the vial of medicine and made Sam drink the last of it. Sam spluttered at its foul taste but swallowed it and leaned back again tiredly.

I carefully began to arrange the small pieces of wood into a tent-shape before grabbing the backpack and digging through it until I found the small tin of matches that we hadn't yet touched and pulled it out. I popped off the lid and shook the tiny red-tipped sticks out onto my palm.

I peered at the side of the tin and saw a strip of rough paper glued to it, used to help create a spark.

"Here we go, Sammy," I muttered and struck the match against the side of the tin, a small orange flame blooming on the match's red head instantly.

I slowly lowered the burning match to the pile of kindling and watched as yellow flames raced along the pieces of wood, eating them quickly and sending up plumes of white smoke.

I dropped the spent match and warmed my fingers for a moment before moving to Sam's side and sitting down. I knew we couldn't rest for long but a moment's reprieve was all we needed.

Standing, I took hold of my brother's wrists and pulled him to his feet as well.

"You okay?" I asked, concernedly and Sam nodded, swiping his bangs away from his eyes, "Yeah, I'm fine."

I nodded grimly, knowing that Sam was lying but didn't argue with him. I just hoped that if I told him to run he would and that he wouldn't try to fight.

Running away might seem cowardly but when my brother's life was on the line, it was the smartest action he could take.

I gazed out at the surrounding town, eyes keen for the sight of movement. I gripped my bow tightly, an arrow already nocked.

W

Time seemed to drag on by, the only sound was of our own breathing and the sighing of the wind through the skeletal trees.

The small fire had died out ages ago and I was contemplating starting another one when I suddenly caught a flash of pale hair darting through the houses across from the Cornucopia.

I raised my bow and drew back, arrow poised and ready to fly. Sam prepared himself as well, his uninjured arm stretched back, a heavy rock nestled in the pocket of the slingshot.

I didn't know if Glamour and Talley were working together but thought not, a Career wouldn't stoop so low as to form an alliance with someone from such a poorer District like Ten.

"Come on," I breathed, "Come on, show your face."

Glamour was nothing if not fast and I had difficulty tracking her as she darted nimbly around and behind the houses across the road.

I could only use one arrow- I couldn't' afford to miss- and needed a clear shot, even if it meant having the girl come uncomfortably- and dangerously- close to Sam and I.

I just hoped the Career hadn't picked herself up a bow and arrows anywhere.

I was shocked as Glamour suddenly rushed out from behind a house, a sword clutched in her hands, heading straight towards my brother and I.

I let the arrow loose and watched, horrified as it whizzed right past the blonde, only leaving a red scratch across one cheek that didn't appear to bother her in the least; she must have been feeling the same raw excitement and terror as we were that pushed everything else into the background.

Sam released his rock and it cracked against one of Glamour's shoulders, causing her to shriek and nearly drop her sword. She managed to keep a hold on the weapon and picked up her pace. Glamour was steadily closing in and I stood fumbling for an arrow as they shifted around the nearly empty quiver across my back.

The Career lowered the sword and, realizing that there was no more time left, I dove to the ground, hands over my head.

My blood froze in my veins when I heard Sam cry out and I looked up, horrified to see Glamour pulling her sword from my brother's side and my sibling collapse to the ground.

"SAM!" I shouted and reached out, one hand closing around a jagged rock sticking up from the grass. I yanked the rock from the ground and leaped up, moving towards Glamour as she turned her back to me, focused on Sam.

With a snarl I brought the sharp edge of the rock down on the back of Glamour's head, the crude weapon breaking her skull with a sickening crack. Blood poured down the back of her neck, soaking her pale hair and black jacket. She gasped and dropped the sword, twisting to try and face me. I lifted the rock again and brought it crashing down a second time, a wet squelch accompanying the second blow.

Glamour collapsed to her knees, giving a choked gasp and pitched forward, landing heavily on her stomach.

I brought the bloodstained rock up a third time, a fourth time, a fifth before Sam's voice stayed my hand.

"D-Dean," he said, "Stop."

The rock fell from my hand and I crawled on my hands and knees to my brother. Sam was lying on his back with one hand pressed against his side, close to his hip.

"Oh Katniss," I said, "Oh Peeta… Sammy, oh no."

"I-I'm okay, D-Dean," Sam muttered and smiled, "I-It's not th-that bad."

I shook my head, tears burning in my eyes. I could see crimson liquid seeping out between my brother's fingers and knew it was bad.

"H-Help me up," Sam asked and reached out with his hand that wasn't pressed to the wound.

"What? No!" I protested.

"W-We still have t-to get Talley," Sam said, eyes glazed but focused on me.

"Okay," I said, "You're right."

I helped Sam sit up, my brother hissing painfully and tears squeezing out from his eyes at the movement, and shrugged off my jacket. As gently as possible, I wrapped it around my brother's middle, hoping it would stop the worst of the bleeding until all this was over and some of the Capitol's doctors could heal him once he was crowned Victor.

Sam stood shakily, his face so pale it was almost grey, but he stayed on his feet.

I took an arrow from the quiver and set it in the bow, promising that this time I wouldn't miss my target.

W

Sam couldn't stand any longer. He sat down, head bowed, fading quickly. I wanted to get him to the safety of the Cornucopia but dared not move him.

So instead, I stood guard and waited.

Darkness came quickly to the Arena- too quickly- and still we remained.

I was starting to wonder if Talley was dead and Sam and I were the only ones left, the Gamemakers waiting for my brother to pass before announcing the winner. I sneered, that was not going to happen. Sam was going to get through this, I was going to make sure he would, and go back home.

I almost didn't hear Talley as he crept up behind us from the woods, my attention focused more so on the town but the telltale crunch of a twig warned me of the approaching threat. And not a moment too soon.

I whipped around to find the Tribute from Ten only a few feet away from us, dagger clutched in one hand. Despite the short distance, I shot off the arrow I had nocked earlier, my muscles protesting the movement after remaining still for so long. As a result of Talley's proximity to us, the arrow hit its mark, embedding itself into the young man's chest.

Talley grunted and staggered back but he did not fall. He took a couple faltering steps forward and threw the dagger he held.

Pain bloomed in my abdomen and I glanced down, shocked, at the sight of the dagger lodged into my stomach. I reached up with one shaking hand but recalled from Training how it was ill advised to remove an impaled object because it would only exacerbate the bleeding and instead reached behind to grab the last arrow.

I watched as Talley continued forward, weaponless but still determined it seemed, to kill us. The pain in my stomach was not so bad yet- as I knew it was soon to become- and I pulled the arrow back with ease, desperate to keep Talley from reaching my brother.

The arrow sank deep into Talley's neck and he stumbled, gurgling on his own blood for a long moment before falling to the ground.

"Sammy," I gasped, fire seeping into my middle and beginning to eat away at my insides.

I was stunned when my brother lifted his head, his eyes sunken and dull, but very much alive.

I collapsed to my knees beside Sam and drew him closer; hugging him against me despite the pain we were both in.

Maybe this was how it was always meant to be, I thought and closed my eyes, maybe no one was supposed to win this time.

I stiffened when I heard a growl coming from behind us and peeled my eyes open. I peered over my shoulder but saw nothing.

The growl sounded again and I smiled. If the monster that had killed Flash was going to kill Sam and I then I welcomed it.

Sam lifted his head, his eyes going wide for a moment before he was ripped forcibly from my grasp and dragged across the grass.

"Sam!" I called, struggling to stand as my brother was pulled away towards the woods, "Sammy!"

I staggered to my feet and took a couple of painful steps, Sam's weak cries ringing in my ears, before realizing that I could do nothing for him.

"SAM!" I shouted as loud as I could, my voice cracking.

"DEAN!" I heard Sam call back then all became eerily silent.

I jumped when the sound of a cannon announced the final death that had taken place in the Arena.

"No," I muttered, "No, please, not Sam. This wasn't supposed to happen."

I stared up at the sky, tears leaking from my eyes and fell to my knees again. I bowed my head, agony sharper than the knife wound searing through me and I decided that I still wasn't going to let the Gamemakers have the last laugh. I grabbed the handle of the dagger still protruding from my stomach and yanked the weapon free, crying out in pain as I did so.

I lifted my face to the sky again and grinned toothily even as darkness began to creep into my vision and Archimedes de Soto's voice was nothing but meaningless sounds in my ears.

"We win," I ground out, the grass rushing up to meet me and I was abruptly pulled into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from a Tragically Hip song.


	16. To What End?

The first thing I noticed was that I was cold. I shivered, lying on my back against something smooth and chilly. The ground? Was I dead? Was I dying?

The second thing I noticed was that I didn't feel any pain. The wound in my stomach, that had moments ago been searing with agony, my lifeblood spilling out in a hot gush, barely even twinged now.

Curious to see what the afterlife looked like- if it was anything like Twelve- I slowly opened my eyes and found myself staring up at a stark white sky.

Frowning in confusion, I sat up, propping myself up on my elbows and realized that I was not on the ground or dead, for that matter. I gazed around at the long, white room I was in, rows of beds like the one I was in, stretching out on either side of me.

I glanced down and saw that I was wearing a white, short-sleeved shirt and, pulling the blanket down, that I also had white trousers on, both garments made of soft cloth.

I yanked up the shirt to expose my belly and saw only a thin pink line where a weeping gash had been previously.

The sound of approaching footsteps startled me and I looked up, seeing a woman wearing a long white coat, walking towards me.

"Where am I?" I asked, my voice scratchy. I was clearly not still in the Arena and wanted to know where I had been taken.

"The Medical Floor of the Training Center," the woman answered, speaking as though she had better things to do then explain my situation to me.

"The Training Center?" I muttered, "Then I'm in the Capitol?"

"Yes," the woman said, "You were taken here by a helicopter from the Arena."

I nodded, feeling numb.

"Where's-" I began to ask after my brother, knowing that he'd be worried about me when I suddenly remembered what had happened in the last few moments before I passed out.

"Sam," I breathed, my heart clenching like a fist in my chest, "Sammy…"

My brother was gone, dead, dragged into the woods by an invisible growling monster.

I wrapped my arms around my middle, tears streaming down my face as I tried to catch my breath.

This couldn't be happening, this wasn't what was supposed to happen! I didn't want to win! I didn't want to be the Victor!

I had failed. I had failed my brother and myself. I had promised Sammy that I would make sure he got home safe and I had broken that promise.

"You're expected upstairs," the woman interrupted, "Your Mentor and Capitol escort are waiting for you."

I looked up and swallowed, tasting salt and nodded. I didn't want to move but I didn't want to stay under this woman's indifferent scrutiny.

I carefully slid off the bed and looked questioningly at the woman- I had no idea where to go- and she pointed me in the right direction with one pale finger.

I walked slowly, dejectedly towards the exit, going over my last moments with Sam over and over, trying to figure out if there was anything I could have done differently that could have saved him.

The door to the Medical Floor slammed shut behind me and I looked up, seeing familiar elevator doors at the end of the hallway.

I trudged forward, weighted down by grief. I wanted this all to be a bad dream, I wanted to wake up but I knew I wouldn't because this was no nightmare; this was real.

I pressed the button to summon the elevator, staring at the shiny outer doors sullenly. I didn't know how I was going to return to District Twelve now. Alone.

The elevator's doors opened and I stepped inside the lift, taking a deep breath before pressing the button that would send the lift upwards.

I leaned against the side of the elevator, having no strength to stand straight. I closed my eyes and waited as the lift climbed higher and higher towards the rooms reserved for Tributes from District Twelve.

A shrill female voice called my name as the doors opened and I saw Sugar Zest and Bobby Singer standing in the hallway to the apartment, waiting for me.

I stepped out of the elevator and was swept into the Capitol escort's arms. Sugar hugged me as though I was her own son, one manicured hand against my head as she cooed.

"Alright," Bobby grumbled, "Come off it, before you smother the poor lad."

Sugar released me, holding me out at arm's length. She didn't look like her flamboyant, chirpy self today. Instead of bright, cheerful colours she wore a dress made of grey lace, black shoes with high heels, even her makeup was subdued in tones of charcoal and ash.

"You look a mess," she appraised me, "Why don't you get some rest and we'll go back to Twelve in the morning?"

I shook my head, "No, I don't want to stay here. Can we leave today? Now."

The Capitol escort nodded, patting my shoulder with one hand, "Of course."

Sugar turned and began walking briskly back towards the apartment purposefully. Bobby kept pace with me as I dragged my feet.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," I whispered, pain welling up anew within me.

Bobby nodded, "I know, Son."

"Sam was supposed to be here," I continued, "Not me. He was just a kid! Only twelve years old. And now he's dead."

The older Victor said nothing, just listened quietly because there was really nothing he could say to make it better. I appreciated his silence; I was certain to receive many heartfelt condolences once I was back in my home district.

Sugar met us at the door; "The train will be ready for us in thirty minutes. For now why don't you rest, have something to eat? You look half-starved."

I shrugged- the last thing on my mind was food- but followed her to the table and sat down.

I didn't react as the Avox girl approached and Sugar told her to pour me a mug of hot cocoa.

I automatically reached out for a tray of cookies sitting on the table and dumped all of them onto my plate, a couple slipping off and plunking into my cocoa mug.

Without even looking up I knew Sugar and Bobby were staring at me, I ignored them though, I didn't want to have to see the concern and sympathy on their faces.

"I'm sure everyone will be excited to see you when we arrive in Twelve," the Capitol escort said, "There hasn't been a Victor from that Districts since… well, since Robert here won."

I stared at the cookies on my plate, thinking about my brother.

What was I supposed to do now? Sammy was gone. Everything in my life had revolved around him; he was the reason I got up in the morning. Now, without him, I felt lost.

I didn't notice tears were streaming down my cheeks until Sugar was patting my face with a serviette. I grabbed her wrist and pushed her hand away. I didn't want her to try and make me feel better, I didn't want her to mother me, I just wanted to wallow in my grief.

The woman sat back down in her seat, sniffing as though she were trying to hold back her own tears.

"Sammy," I whispered, my voice cracking, and closed my eyes, trying to picture him in my head, happy and alive but all that came to mind instead was a vision of him sitting slumped on the dry grass of the Arena, blood soaking through the side of his black shirt, his face grey.

SPN

Sam startled awake, gasping in shock.

The boy blinked confusedly, staring up at the blue-tinged lights shining coldly down on him.

Where was he?

Was he still in the Arena?

Where was Dean?

Sam's hand slid down his side, searching for the awful wound Glamour's sword had inflicted and his eyes widened in surprise to feel a faint, raised line of scar tissue where once the gash had been. He guessed that the arrow wound in his back has also been healed.

The twelve-year old sat up and stared at his surroundings. He was in a room that was bare but for the stainless steel table he was on, a white blanket pooling around his waist. The walls and floor were covered in grey tile, not unlike the ones in the Remake Center; though Sam had a feeling he wasn't about to see his prep team anytime soon.

Sam shivered suddenly. He didn't have a shirt on and goose bumps crept across his bare skin. Glancing down and lifting the blanket Sam's eyes widened when he, saw that he was completely naked.

Where was he?

Where were his clothes?

"H-Hello?" Sam called, his voice small in the large room.

"Dean?" Sam called, voice louder this time and smiled at the sound of approaching footsteps.

It wasn't his brother, however, who answered his call. It was Azazel King, head Gamemaker.

Sam gripped the edge of the blanket, pulling it up and inched back from the man.

The Gamemaker was wearing all black, the only colour coming from his yellow eyes, which were staring right at Sam.

"Sam Winchester," the man said, smiling, "I've waited a long time to meet you."

"Where am I? What do you want with me? Where's Dean?" the twelve-year old asked in quick succession, his heart beating nervously in his narrow chest.

"You are in the Capitol's public Medical Center," Azazel told him openly, "I wanted the chance to finally meet you face to face."

Sam didn't relax, instead, the idea of being in the Medical Center in the Capitol only added to his anxiety.

"As for your brother," the Gamemaker continued, "I assume he is on his way back to your home District by now."

"Dean's alive?" Sam asked and Azazel nodded, "He is our newest Victor."

Sam frowned, looking down, "But… I'm not dead."

The last thing he remembered from the Arena was an agonizing pain in his leg when that invisible monster had grabbed him from Dean and being dragged towards the forest. Sam had cried out desperately for his brother, too weak to fight the monster himself, before passing out.

"I was actually hoping you would win, Sam," Azazel said, "But, alas, I had to tweak my plans ever so slightly when I realized that both you and Dean were still alive at the end. So I had one of my muttants drag you away and had the cannon sound so everyone would believe you'd been killed."

Sam stared at the man, "Why?"

Why was he so important to Azazel? The man wasn't even from District Twelve so why should he care so much about him? The only people who cared about Sam were his father, his brother, Missouri Mosley and the Harvelles.

"We may never have met one another before," the Gamemaker said, "But we have a special connection, you and I."

Sam's brows furrowed in confusion. He didn't know what Azazel King was talking about and it made him nervous.

"It was before you were born," the man began, "but I've visited District Twelve many times- the other districts as well- but I was always drawn to your home district more than any other.

"I met a young woman in the district, one of the Merchant's daughters and fell in love with her. Unfortunately, she did not feel the same about me. I tried to convince her to go to the Capitol with me but she refused. I understood, she'd only ever known District Twelve and was reluctant to leave the security of the familiar. I was patient though, whenever I returned to the district I begged her to leave with me, I could give her everything she ever wanted if she would only say yes but she was nothing if not stubborn."

Sam listened, trying to figure out what exactly this had to do with him.

"When I visited the District after some time of being away, I found out that the woman I loved had married another man, a miner," Azazel said, sneering in contempt.

"That bitch could have had everything! But instead she married a common miner! Someone even below her status!"

Sam cringed back, frightened by the intensity of the Gamemaker's anger.

"Then she gave birth to a bouncing baby brat," Azazel continued, "And everything was just perfect."

"What happened?" Sam couldn't help but ask and flinched when Azazel grinned toothily at him.

"Her poor husband met with an accident in the mine," the Gamemaker told Sam, smugly, "One of the shafts collapsed. Oh, he was pulled out but the damage was done. He wasn't going to make it, not without superior medical attention.

"I just so happened to be in the district again, on business, and heard of the collapse and the woman's plight. Knowing she had a young son to look after already and what would happen if her husband died of his injuries, I offered to help," the man told Sam, looking like the cat that had eaten the canary.

"At first she was reluctant to my terms but without any other option, she finally agreed. Her husband was taken to the Capitol and received the best medical care available."

Sam waited patiently for the Gamemaker to continue, wanting to know if everything turned out for the woman and her family.

"Nine months later, another son was born," Azazel said, looking as though he was having difficulty holding in his glee.

"My son," the Gamemaker said and Sam frowned.

He wasn't a little kid, he knew where babies came from, he was just curious to know who Azazel King's son was, if he had maybe seen him at school and hadn't even noticed.

"Who-" Sam began to ask but the Gamemaker held his hand up, "I'm not finished the story yet. Don't you want to hear the end?"

Sam shrugged, "I guess."

"When I heard that the woman had given birth, I went back to the district one last time. I wanted to see my son. The mother, however, didn't want me to. She kept my own son away from me!" Azazel spat the last sentence and Sam cringed back.

"What I did next," the Gamemaker said, "is actually very famous in your District. I set fire to one of the abandoned houses in the Seam in my rage."

Sam's mouth opened in an 'o' of shock. No one had ever figured out exactly how that fire had started, the fire that had killed his mother when he had only been six months old.

"That bitch got what she deserved," Azazel growled, "Unfortunalty, I had just been promoted to Head Gamemaker shortly before and I was forced to return to the Capitol without my son."

The man seemed calmer now and smiled at Sam, "A day hasn't gone by where I haven't thought about my son; what he looked like, what his favourite foods were, was he confident like me… well, now that wait is finally over, after all these years, and I couldn't be happier."

Azazel fell silent as though waiting for something and Sam frowned.

Why had Azazel told him all this? There had to be a point to-

Sam's head snapped up, eyes wide in horror.

No! No, that couldn't be right!

"I knew you were smart, Sam," Azazel praised and the boy felt sick to his stomach.

"You… You…" the twelve-year old stammered.

"I'm your father," the Head Gamemaker said, spreading his arms out, "My blood runs through your veins."

Sam groaned and closed his eyes, certain he was going to vomit.

"I knew I had to meet you, even if it took years and I was patient," Azazel said, "When the Quarter Quell was announced I knew what I had to do. I had the Head Peacekeeper in the district replace all the boys' names with just two: yours and your brothers. There were hundreds of them! You were going to be picked as Tribute for these Games, I guaranteed it."

"Wh-Why Dean?" Sam stammered, "Why put his name in?"

"I knew how much he cared about you and I couldn't risk pairing you with another boy who wouldn't lay down his life to keep you safe during the Games," Azazel told him, winking.

Sam wrapped his arms around his middle and closed his eyes. This wasn't happening. This had to be a nightmare.

"Now," the Gamemaker said, "You know the truth. I have something very important to ask you, Sam. Please pay attention."

The boy slowly looked up at Azazel. What did he want now?

"As there can only be one Victor and you are not allowed to return to District Twelve," the man told him, "You have two options. One, you can come with me and live in the Capitol as my son… or, you can be branded as a traitor and live a life of misery."

Sam shook his head, tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

Even if what Azazel had said was true and he was Sam's father, the boy could not- would not- go with him. He was a murderer; he was evil!

"Choose carefully, son," the man said, "You won't get a second chance."

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" Sam exclaimed, "You killed my mother!"

Azazel frowned, clearly not pleased with the boy's decision.

"I do not make idle threats, boy," the man warned, "Think carefully on this. I can give you everything you've ever desired, you wouldn't want for anything ever again. Can John Winchester say the same?"

"I know he loves me!" Sam exclaimed, "I don't even know you!"

Azazel scowled, clearly trying to keep him emotions in check, "Is that your decision then? You refuse me?"

"You're not my father," Sam ground out, "John Winchester is."

The Gamemaker nodded, sighing, "I had hoped you'd join me, Sam."

The boy stared as the man turned away from him and began walking away, back the way he had come.

Sam watched Azazel's progress, his chest heaving as he fought to keep from crying. He just wanted to go back home, he just wanted to be with his brother and father again.

The Gamemaker opened the door at the far side of the room but instead of leaving, he ushered others inside.

Four men dressed in black Peacekeepers uniforms stepped inside, marching straight toward the table Sam was sitting on.

The boy looked at Azazel, wondering if maybe the man was just trying to scare him- he was scared- but the Gamemaker was nowhere to be seen. He must have slipped out after the Peacekeepers.

Sam cringed back as one of the Peackeepers reached for him, grabbing his arm in one black-gloved hand and pulling him towards the side of the table.

"Let me go!" Sam cried out and struggled to pull his arm free.

The other Peacekeepers surrounded him, forcibly lifting him off the table and onto the floor. Two held Sam's arms tightly while the walked ahead and behind him, blocking off all escape.

"Let me go, please!" Sam begged, fighting against his captors uselessly.

The boy's cries fell on deaf ears; they began marching him towards the door, desensitized to this kind of reaction in their victims.

The Peacekeepers led Sam down a dull, grey hallway, his bare feet padding dully against the concrete floor and into yet another room.

This one was equipped with the same blue-tinged lights and stainless steel tables as the first but something was significantly different then the empty room Sam had woken up in. A woman wearing a long, white stood beside one of the tables, a large needle in her hand.

The Peacekeepers didn't even have to be asked; they knew exactly what to do with a traitor. Sam was lifted up and deposited on his back on the cold surface of the table, the men immobilizing him with straps across his chest and legs, his arms pinned to his sides.

The Peacekeepers retreated, giving the woman room. She stared down at Sam as though he was some kind of insect found in her garden. Like other residents of the Capitol, she had had surgery to enhance her features and when she smiled Sam saw that her teeth had been filed down to points.

"Hold still now," the woman advised and Sam groaned in pain as the tip of the needle she wielded sank into his neck.

SPN

I stared out the window, watching as the Capitol whipped past in a blur of rainbow colours.

I would be happy if I never saw that place again.

Wishful thinking only, I knew. Even though I was a Victor I wasn't through with the Capitol. I would still have to go on the Victor's Tour- the ridiculous tradition of having to visit every district and the Capitol to recite speeches that had been pre-written for me and make small talk with officials- and Mentor other kids during their own Hunger Games.

I felt sick to my stomach just thinking about the rest of my life.

"Dean?"

I looked up when I saw Bobby standing in the compartment's doorway, swaying slightly with the movement of the train.

"I brought you some ginger tea," he said, holding out a fine china mug, "You look like you need it."

"Oh… uh, thanks," I muttered and Bobby stepped into the compartment, closing the sliding door.

I took the offered beverage, sipping at it without really tasting it.

"Does it get any easier, Bobby?" I asked, "Mentoring kids you know are going to die?"

The older man shook his head, "No. I wish it did but it don't. Once I get to know 'em… it damn near feels like their my own sons and daughters I'm sending to the slaughter."

I nodded and lowered my head. As much as it still hurt to know that Sammy was gone, I was grateful to know that at least he wasn't there to go through this.

"Take it easy when we get back to Twelve," Bobby said, "You hear me? The Victor's Tour ain't for six months yet so you've got some time to sort yourself out."

I nodded, drinking some more of the tea.

"What about my talent?" I asked; all Victors had to display a talent or attribute that was of use to their district or was entertaining for the residents of the Capitol, something to show that they weren't resting on their laurels, so to speak.

"Don't worry about that right now," Bobby told me, "We'll get all that figured out later on."

I sighed and finished the ginger tea, handing the empty cup back to Bobby. Turning away from him I stared out the window once more. I heard the compartment door slide as the older man left.

Tears welled up in my eyes but I brushed them away roughly.

Instead of crying, I did something I knew would cheer up Sam if he were around to hear. Taking a deep breath, I began to sing, slowly, quietly, to try and ease the pain in my heart.

"Hey Jude, don't make it bad, take a sad song and make it better…"

SPN

Sam sat still, staring straight ahead as a woman in a brown dress cut his hair short and another in a blue dress clipped his nails down to the quick.

He was clothed now; his nakedness covered with a bright red shirt and trousers, the badge of an Avox, a traitor to the Capitol.

His throat and mouth ached, the boy swallowing reflexively even though it did nothing to reduce the pain, his tongue having been cut out by the sharp-toothed woman with the needle.

Once the women were finished with their ministrations Sam was led from the room and down the hallway only to meet up with the four black-uniformed Peacekeepers the boy had encountered after refusing to leave with Azazel King.

Sam didn't fight the men as they grabbed him, once again creating a barrier around him and walked down a narrow staircase into a large underground area where many gas-powered vehicles were parked. Sam had never seen such machines- automobiles; he recalled his teacher's name for them from school- but now could have cared less about them.

He was led towards one that was completely black, its rear end square and cumbersome-looking. One of the Peacekeepers opened the automobile's double doors and Sam saw that there were two benches along both sides of the vehicle, at the same height as chairs. Sam was pushed inside and made to sit between two of the men while the third took a seat across from them; the fourth closed the doors and headed to the front to drive.

Sam startled when the automobile growled and shook slightly, one of the Peacekeepers chuckling cruelly at his sudden fright.

The automobile slowly lumbered out of the parking area and into the bright light of day. Large windows, with smoked glass covered in squares of thin wire, gave a view of the streets of the Capitol as they passed.

The citizens of the Capitol seemed to know exactly what type of person was riding in the vehicle and Sam could hear passersby hissing and booing, calling out obscenities. The boy bowed his head low, tears welling up in his eyes.

W

Sam didn't know how long they had been driving before the automobile slowed to a stop and the Peacekeepers stood up.

Sam inched backwards into the corner, frightened. He didn't want to get out of the vehicle. One of the Peacekeepers turned around and grabbed his arm, roughly, dragging him forward.

The man who had been driving opened the double doors and the twelve-year old was pulled out of the automobile.

"Welcome to the rest of your life," the Peacekeeper holding Sam's arm told him and the boy looked up, eyes wide and terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from a Thrice song.

**Author's Note:**

> Although this is a crossover of the Supernatural and Hunger Games universes, none of the original characters in the Hunger Games will actually be featured in the fanfiction, though they may be mentioned.


End file.
